The Queen's Amulet
by Nane1307
Summary: A demolished archive, a mammoth running amok, and a murderous Pharaoh. With a day like that, Nick Daley's former babysitter, Nita, should have stayed in bed. How was she supposed to know, though, that things would go down the tubes that badly? Add in a mysterious amulet and a peculiar concurrence and the chaos is complete!
1. Prologue

**My dear fellow enthusiasts of museum exhibits, welcome to my little (giant) story :)**

 **Before I start, I must get a few things off my chest. First and foremost, I want to thank my awesome beta reader IKindaWriteSometimes** **, without whom this would have never been possible. Honestly, thank you so much!**

 **I will try to keep this story as historically accurate as possible, but there will be a few alterations I will have to make in order for this story to work. So please, don't come at me with torches and pitchforks :D**

 **Naturally, I don't own any characters from either of the movies, merely my OCs and the plotline. There is going to be A TON of ancient Egyptian translations and background information, which I will list at the beginning of every chapter.**

 **Lastly, if you like to leave a review, I would be overjoyed!**

 **Alright, enough with the talking, here we go.**

 **~References~**

 **-Nebet-Tawi: Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt**

* * *

What were the odds on discovering a pharaonic tomb in one's life? One to one billion? One to ten billion? Vanishingly low, that much was obvious. What about finding an undiscovered tomb in one that had already been explored? Nearly impossible, simple as that. That's what Rashad Malik thought, too, when he examined the final resting place of Pharaoh Ahkmenrah with his team. On a torrid Tuesday, destiny resolved to convince him of the contrary. It was stuffy underground, the air dry. They wanted to gather as much information about the forgotten King as they could. After all, science now had technologies at its disposal no one dared to dream about when the tomb was first excavated in 1938. Rashad's intention on this fateful Tuesday was to measure the chamber anew.

Jimmy, the intern, was just rigging up the rangefinder when he accidentally bumped one foot of the tripod into a wall. As it was bound to happen, the colorfully painted plaster in the bottom right corner chipped off and crumbled to little platelets. In between Jimmy's reeled apologies and the constricting thought of chucking his career in, the Egyptologist noticed something strange: beyond the knocked off plaster, chiseled sandstones layered on top of each other, kept together by hastily applied mortar. His fingers were damp with sweat as he examined the spot of the mishap. The wall was without a doubt brick-built, not hewn into stone like the remaining ones. He tried to calm his heart, but he didn't succeed. What reason could the workers back then have had to erect a wall in this sepulcher? It didn't make any sense, the only built walls down here were...

Pathways!

Looking over to his colleagues, he realized that they must have come to the same conclusion as him. The researchers stood there for a while, gaping at each other, unable to comprehend just _what_ Jimmy's heedlessness had brought to light. The following weeks went by in a mix of phone calls, meetings and press conferences with countless discussions led. Should they break through the obstacle and forever destroy the detailed paintings in the process, or was it better to just let the matter rest and disregard what could be the greatest archaeological discovery in history? At last, Rashad's workmates were the ones to come up with a middle way. The bit of the wall that had fallen victim to the tripod was already exposed, with a bit of effort, even a grown man could squeeze himself through, without having to remove more of the cladding. And so, the decision was indefinitely simple.

Just a few cameramen had permission to broadcast the opening of the wall; too much bustle could have unnecessarily jeopardized the ancient tomb. The world stopped breathing when Rashad worked his chisel through the stone, as carefully as he could. It took hours, but a machine might have reduced the burial site to ashes with its vibrations. When he finally didn't feel any more resistance beneath his tool, he shone his flashlight into the hole and felt faint. Priceless treasures piled up behind the cold, yielding, stony warden. Everything was still there: Furniture, implements, clothes, and jewelry. Time seemed frozen in this small chamber. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what he caught sight of at the far end of the room. At that precise moment he knew he was one of the aforementioned few; the lucky ones, the one-in-a-billion. He, Rashad Malik, had stumbled across an undiscovered tomb in one that had already been known, defying every theory of probability.

Behind a chair and a chest, he detected a golden sarcophagus, carried by a lion-headed bier. With the greatest caution, but spurred on by his curiosity, he hacked away until the hole was big enough to let him through. He nodded to his team, adjusted the protective mask over his mouth and nose and crawled into the other room. Excitement spread between those who followed. Dust and rubble scrunched beneath them, but the sounds petered out in the millennium-old silence. His colleagues and the cameramen only dared to whisper, looking around, pointing hither and yon. The head Egyptologist approached the coffin first. His trembling flashlight beam floated over the hieroglyphics that were incorporated into the valuable metal. They formed a name there:

Neferet-Meritaset.

A rustle swished through his ears and his head was weightless for a moment, then the awareness hit him with the force of a cannonball.

Neferet-Meritaset. Neferet-Meritaset, _Nebet-Tawi._

 _Queen Neferet-Meritaset._

They had discovered the burial chamber of Ahkmenrah's enigmatic Queen! Rashad dropped his flashlight in shock.

The passageway had to be enlarged slightly to move their equipment through. After a few days, everything was ready for them to open the sarcophagus. Slowly, the cable winch fastened to the lid set into motion. Inch by inch the heavy load was lifted, until they could finally shove it out of its mounting and set it to the ground. A second sarcophagus appeared, smaller than the first one but not any less superb. Accusatory alabastrine eyes stared them down and observed every move they made. The casket was elaborately wrought, just like the first one. Its vibrant colors had survived the millennia of their seclusion unscathed. For a second time, the machine heaved the tremendous weight of the lid, Rashads nerves were stretched to breaking point. He peered inward and saw...

Nothing.

* * *

 _Faces swam around the girl in dead silent darkness. She was trapped between them, could turn nowhere without having eyes following her. Like a shoal of fish, they hovered in the emptiness and dashed back into nothingness when she reached for them. She could only watch, reduced to inaction. There was a young man with short, black hair. A small child with curls. An old woman, whose deeply lined face had once been radiant with beauty. Every single face evoked a feeling of familiarity inside of her and her head almost burst because she couldn't remember why._

 _The buzzing creatures slowly went up in smoke, not bothering to give an answer. All they left behind was a searing pain. The girl felt like her heart was ripped in two, while at the same time, it throbbed so hard she was barely able to breathe. Amidst her inner agony she felt a glance sticking to her like a fly stuck on the glue of a flytrap. It was so sad, she was in danger of suffocating on it._

"Why?", _a hoarse voice whispered, resonating from the darkness like from a gorge._

 _Panicked, she fought to lift her feet from the ground and escape the anguish this spherical being inflicted on her, but she only moved in slow motion. With every second she struggled forward, the gaze grew more intense. With every step she took, the voice grew louder._

"Why?"

 _As much as she wanted to answer, she couldn't. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. The tears that flooded her eyes could not fall and threatened to drown her. The voice had increased to an unbearable volume, forceful enough to shatter her eardrums._

"Why?!"


	2. Worse and worse

**~References~**

 **-Ammit: Demoness and Goddess with a body that is part lion, hippopotamus and crocodile. She lives near the scales of justice in the underworld and devours the sinner's hearts.**

 **-"Osiris" Ahkmenrah: When a Pharaoh dies, he is no longer associated with Horus, but rather with Osiris. Since Pharaohs had five titles, I also extended Ahk's.**

* * *

Breathing heavily, Nita yanked her head out of her arms and looked around: She was sitting at the small desk in her apartment. Records of the lectures from university were strewn around her while the old TV in the corner squawked away.

Her cheeks were wet, she noticed. Exhausted she wiped away the trails the tears had left with the back of her hand. A nightmare, yet again. One would think the medications prescribed to her after the hospitalization would be enough to help her against them, but retrograde amnesia combined with sleep disturbances was not important enough to put her on strong pharmaceuticals as it seemed.

 _"_... _that were discovered in an undetected chamber in the tomb of Pharaoh Ahkmenrah, last year. Now they are added to his exhibition at the Museum of Natural History, here in New York City. Please welcome Rashad Malik, the one who opened the small funerary chamber. Hello, Rashad."_ Nita was ripped from her thoughts by the TV. The clock on the side of her TV showed it was 3:07 pm. She had really slept for _two_ hours! The camera pivoted around to present a black-haired man with dark complexion. His face was framed by a tame beard.

 _"Hello, Heather."_ He fumbled with his hands unceasingly and Nita could see the reflection of the spot lights in the sweat beads trailing on his forehead.

 _First things first: Do you have any assumptions as to why there was no mummy lying in the sarcophagus?"_ she read from an outsized notecard that had the logo of the program imprinted on its back, paying the tension gripping her guest no heed.

Rashad swallowed.

 _"Well, we have some theories: Our principal speculation is that the Queen could have been entombed somewhere else entirely to begin with. We have also debated the possibility that she was just re-interred."_

 _"Tomb raiders can be excluded, then?"_

 _"Yes."_ , he stated nervously. _"The chamber was well hidden, and the funerary goods were untouched. Besides, Ahkmenrah's tomb itself was unopened."_

 _"Oh, what objects did y-"_

The young woman reached for the remote and banished the two of them from her TV screen. As much as she'd like to procrastinate her term paper on provincial Roman archaeology, she only had until Monday to write twenty pages. Today was Saturday. Two days. It wouldn't be so bad if she still had sources to draw information from. Unfortunately, she did not.

At the beginning, the library was of great assistance to her, alongside the internet, of course. By now, the availability of unused information for her paper was becoming scarce. She had roughly ten pages left to complete, and she would face a huge problem if she couldn't come up with more sources of research. In moments like this, she regretted enrolling at NYU, but the odd little jobs she had kept here and there to help keep the wolf from the door had led to nowhere in the long run. Still, even with the bleak future the jobs had painted for her, she had loved working as a babysitter. She was especially fond of little Nicky. He was-

Her thoughts came to a halt; Nick. Nick Daley. His dad, Larry, worked at the Museum of Natural History, didn't he? _This museum had to have an archive, didn't it?_ Frantically, Nita leaped up, almost knocking over her teacup in the process. She was looking for her cell phone and finally found it between a library book that had been overdue for two weeks and a half-full pizza box. Tensed, she scrolled through her contacts, hoping to find a certain name. There it was! Lucky for her, she never had deleted the contact. Pressing the key to call, she sent a quick prayer heavenwards, with the hope that Larry had not changed his number. Ah, the dialing tone. That was a good sign. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four ti-

 _"Hello?"_

"Larry?", she asked hopefully.

 _"Yes..."_ The man's voice sounded leery. _"Who's this?"_

"It's me, Nita."

 _"Nita? As in Nita Seshen?"_

„Yeah."

„ _Hey, wow, how're you doing? I haven't heard from you in forever."_ , he exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Uh, I'm fine, thanks. Listen, you still work at the museum?"

 _"Yes."_

"Does this museum have an archive, too?"

 _"It does... Why do you ask?"_

 _"_ I need a favor..."

* * *

Twenty minutes and a bus ride with a chattily old lady for a seatmate later, Nita stood in front of the museum, notebook bag in hand. The giant statue of Teddy Roosevelt and his beloved horse welcomed all the visitors.

Quickly, she scurried inside. Larry had made it _explicitly_ clear to her that he only could wrangle her into the archive until closing time, and that wasn't too far away anymore. Only a few visitors roamed the lobby; apparently it was one of those days on which the museum closed early.

Beyond the impressive T-Rex skeleton, she caught sight of Larry already waiting for her at the information desk. He was animatedly talking to a brunette woman who sat behind the counter and typed away on her computer every now and then. Nicky was with them, too, a grin plastered onto his face, almost causing it to split.

"Nita!" The boy whipped his hand off the table and waved it gushingly as soon as he recognized her.

"Hey, Nicky. My, have you grown. I'm feeling old now.", she laughed, pulling him into a warm embrace once she reached him.

" _You're_ feeling old? What does that say about me?", Larry asked with a grin, watching the spectacle in front of him. Nita smiled.

"It's nice to see you, Larry. Sorry for dropping in on you like that.", she said, sheepishly shaking his hand.

"No worries. Considering all the times you acted as a stand-in with Nick ... I'm glad to help where I can." He paused, turning his attention to the other woman with them. "Oh, this is Rebecca Hutman by the way. She's a docent here. Rebecca, this is Nita, Nicky's former babysitter.", he introduced the women after releasing Nita's hand.

"Nice to meet you.", Rebecca offered.

"Yeah, you too."

"Nicky, can you take her to the archive? I need to hide the scissors and lock the fridge."

The girl had barely enough time to wonder at this statement when a hand closed around her forearm and dragged her along.

"Sure. You're gonna love it, Nita. There's a ton of really cool stuff down there.", the boy explained excitedly, falling into a jog that made it hard for her not to stumble.

"Remember, one hour.", Larry's voice resounded behind them. Nita lifted the hand that wasn't controlled by one overeager kid at the moment and gave him a thumbs-up. They came by a bronze Columbus who pointed to the right determinedly, holding a map in his hand. Following his hint, they passed an office labeled 'Dr. L. McPhee – Curator'.

"Rose already clocked out. I saw her leave.", the twelve-year-old told her.

"Rose?"

"The archive lady."

Nita gave an impressed whistle.

"You know your way around here pretty well."

"Dad takes me all the time. He's got the coolest job in history."

The girl didn't really understand how a job as a night guard could ever be as amazing as the boy described it to be, nonetheless she was happy for Larry that his son idolized him so much. Still, she didn't miss the conspiratorial grin the kid threw over his shoulder.

They descended a broad flight of stairs and reached a large double door right after, which Nicky pushed open without hesitation. Beyond it, an invaluable collection of knowledge presented itself: Shelves and cabinets strung themselves together, high enough to reach the ceiling with countless rows of books, maps, scrolls, tablets and

other recording media of protohistoric literature. The collection was vast and extended as far as the eye could see.

"Nick, that's ... wow!" The undergrad was left speechless and beyond thankful for the marvelous opportunity to expand her knowledge.

"I know! And you can play hide and seek down here really well! It's the best! Ahk and I sometimes – uh ... I mean ... never mind.", he reeled and entered the room without looking at the young woman.

Shaking her head, she followed him to the computer next to the door. With quick fingers he opened the search bar. His familiarity with the software astounded her, but on second thought he probably used the archive to do his own homework as well.

"You can type in tags and it tells you where to find the document."

"Alright, thanks Nicky." She sat down in the revolving chair and turned to the boy. "What are you going to do now?"

„Dad bought ... _me_ ... a new comic on our way here.", he told her excitedly and pulled said book out of his backpack.

"Have fun reading, then.", she smiled while opening her notebook bag and setting the laptop next to the computer. She peripherally noticed Nick sitting down at the table behind her, skimming through his comic. Supporting his head with his hands he began reading, a joyous gleam in his eyes.

The time flew by with the undergrad searching for subject headings, looking through the shelves and lastly bringing one writ after another to her work, trying to resourcefully integrate the new-found information into her paper. It really had been a great idea to ask Larry for help. Here, she had more access to information than in reference books, libraries and the internet combined.

Somehow it was unfair, she thought, all of this being locked away down here. Then she remembered all the tattered library books she had seen in her life. Most of the pieces in the archive were too valuable to unleash the public upon. It only flattered her more to be one of the few that could set eyes upon those scripts. Even though no one who held actual authority had permitted it.

From Nicky's direction, she only caught an occasional gasp or a joyful exclamation and the sound of flipping pages. That was what she loved about the boy: He was so enthusiastic and completely dove into what he was doing. Memories came to her mind of the numerous fortresses they'd built on the Daley's couch when Nicky had been younger and Erica and Larry had still been together. Oftentimes they had engaged in terrifying battles and defeated the frightening dragon (aka the vacuum cleaner).

The smiling girl turned around in her chair and observed the child: He sat there, chin still in his hands and dangling his legs. A crease that testified his concentration had formed between his eyes, while his lips were mutely displaying the words he was reading.

Nita shook her head good-naturedly and faced the file cabinet again. According to the computer, it contained a discourse about an excavation of a Roman city in Germany. The program hadn't been wrong so far, but the drawer she was looking through was devoid of any discourses.

Huh. Maybe in the drawer below? The girl squatted down and pulled out the lower compartment. Her finger rattled over the various indexes that separated its content. It had to be somewhere here!

In that exact moment a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the silence above them. It was followed by the trumpeting of an elephant that made the walls tremble. No, it wasn't the sound that shook the walls ... it was the pounding of giant feet.

And they were coming closer.

Alarmed, Nita stood and forgot the still open drawer above her while doing so. Her head banged against it and a stinging pain was her reward.

"Ow! Darn it!" She gingerly felt her head, rubbing the sore spot.

"Uh-oh." Nicky mumbled. He leapt from his seat and obviously couldn't decide whether to rivet on his old babysitter or the wooden door.

"What was that?" Concerned, Nita headed for the entrance.

"Uh..."

The PA system in the hallway started crackling and rustling, then a nervous voice resounded.

"Uh ... Gigantor's requested to report at the planetarium. Due to circumstances that may or may not correlate with the uh ... stapler and 27 elastics, Octavius got pinned upside down to the Saturn model. Ya betta hurry partner, else he gonna go flying!"

Before Nita could think about this strange announcement, all hell broke loose: From the outside, something kept ramming into the archive doors full force. Panicked trumpeting and deep booming sounds could be heard along with it, human shouts as well.

"Nicky, what's going on?" Shaken, the young woman pushed the child behind her and took a step back, keeping her eyes glued to the entry. The doors creaked menacingly and started splintering through the force.

"I ... uhm ... well ..." Nicky gave Nita the exact same look he did all those years ago when he had poured tea into her shoes.

"Nick!"

"... Uh ..."

"Nicholas! Tell me what's going on here. Right. Now." The fear in her voice layered over the intentioned sternness. Nicky hesitated a full two and a half seconds more before it burst out of him.

"Themuseumcomestolifeatnight!"

" _What?!_ "

The door couldn't withstand the strain any longer and yielded with a loud crack. Behind it a panic-stricken mammoth came to light, nothing blocking its way into the room anymore.

"Run!" The boy grabbed her sleeve and pulled her along. Nita's natural flight instincts kicked into action and the two of them dashed to the opposite exit. She could hear the animal following, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. Pushing open the doors and leaving the archive behind, they sprinted down the corridor and up the stairs, until they reached the lobby again. While previously empty, it was now full of life, people walking around as if a costume party was in full swing:

An African warrior with a giant straw mask talked insistently and wildly gesticulating to a group of American settlers. On the far end of the hall a huge elk ran by, a small monkey swinging in its antlers. An Inuit with dog sled rummaged about the drawers of the information desk, on which Rebecca had been seated not too long ago. He flinched when an eagle flew, screeching overhead. It was a preposterous sight, but the undergrad thought it better to be concerned about these hallucinations when she wasn't in immediate danger of dying.

They all stopped in their tracks as they saw Nita, Nicky and – more importantly – the eight-ton animal barreling into view. The settlers and warrior, who stood between the two staircases, threw themselves sideways before the young woman could crash into them. Nicky's grasp on her sweater loosened, probably so he himself could run faster. The mammoth was so hot on her heels that the sound it emitted almost made her eardrums burst. If that wasn't enough, apparently it was being hunted by cavemen itself.

Nita sprinted upstairs, hoping to lose the creature that obviously didn't have the decency to be dead somehow. She took two steps at a time, nearly breaking her neck on several occasions. With an ease that was hard to believe due to its body mass, the mammoth reached the first floor shortly after her.

The museum was so vast. Why did this beast follow her of all people? Her psychotic brain, not being able to form more elaborate thoughts than _'breathe in, breathe out, run, run, run' over_ the past few minutes, surprised her right then and there.

 _Mammoths are gregarious animals, genius! It follows you because it believes you to choose the path with the fewest obstacles!_

Great.

It's tremendous ivory tusks dangerously near to her back, she turned left in front of an Easter Island head, which called out to her, and just barely avoided running into a Chinese jade lion. Before she could collide with the elevator doors, she spurted into a corridor on her right side. Apparently, her flight had driven her into the Egyptian exhibition: Inside the showcases around her priceless jewelry gleamed in the dim light of the wall lamps. The opposite half of the room was tarped and roped off with streamer. Renovations appeared to be in progress there.

The girl raced forward into the tomb, for the small part of her mind that still was in working condition assured her the mammoth's inability to get inside with its tusks. With squeaking soles and desperate gasps she came to a halt. Her lungs were burning themselves through her ribs. Well, it was nice to know that she had a survival instinct she could rely on if things got hairy. As she caught her breath, her mind was able to finally process what happened and only one thought kept running through it.

 _What. The. Hell?!_

What was happening here? The exhibits moved. The exhibits talked. And what should be emphasized above everything else: _The exhibits had tried to kill her!_ Had this been a desperate call for help from her stressed out, sleep deprived brain? With all these weird dreams that was bound to happen one day.

Maybe she was dreaming right now? No, the painful throbbing on her forehead confirmed very much that she was awake. Had she seen those things _because_ she'd hit her head? What did Nicky say before the mammoth had bulldozed half of the archive?

Wait, hold on! Where was Nicky?

She stopped her hyperventilation and pinwheeled. Her immediate surroundings where terrifyingly Nicky-less. Oh no, she _definitely_ was the worst babysitter in history! Black dots started dancing in front of her eyes, keeping her from searching for the boy. Suddenly, she had to brace herself against a pillar to not topple down, her legs nearly giving out beneath her.

"Gnatok!", she heard an irritated voice resound from the tomb. "Do you recall the conversation we had with Larry regarding racing in this corridor? The glass cabinet will not survive a collision like yesterday again. And the mammo-"

The words stopped, instead a young man with a golden crown, bejeweled collar and wide cape stepped out of the inner grave. He probably realized that she wasn't this 'Gnatok'. Staring at her disbelievingly, his eyes kept widening until a horrified expression settled on his face.

"The museum ...", she wheezed, reality catching up to her, "comes to life. Everything comes to life." Even in her own ears that sounded as if she didn't have all her marbles, as if she broke right out of the loony bin. But what was a little madness after this near-death experience? Besides, her head was killing her! It felt as if someone was poking her brain with a red-hot iron rod. The girl grabbed her forehead but rambled on.

"Honestly _everything!_ I mean ... The mammoth and the Neanderthals ... and this Inuit ... and you ... And Nick did say ..." She inhaled sharply and went on with a hysterical laugh. "I thought I just hit my head. Well, actually I did hit my head, pretty hard even, but-"

The young man bridged the distance between them with a quick step and caught her gesticulating hands. His fingers closed vicelike around her wrists. Bewildered, she gazed at him. What was he doing? If he maintained this pressure, it wouldn't take long until he broke a few bones. He pressed a couple of words in a harsh language through his teeth, they nagged at the edge of her memories.

" _What?_ "

"How did you get here? Isn't it enough for you to just haunt my dreams anymore?!", he spat, sounding even more threatening in English.

"Are you crazy? – Ow! – Let go of me!"

She tried to rip her arms out of his grip with all force she could muster. She wanted to recede, but he didn't let go. Fear was starting to grip at Nita, her fingers twitched in a pathetic attempt to claw at his face until her new-found friend, the survival instinct, kicked in yet again. It screamed at her to stop this kids' stuff and bring the big guns in. She didn't have to be told twice. Desperately, she forced her knee forward, but he saw it coming. With the speed of an attacking cobra he twisted his body out of the danger-zone and used the momentum to press her against a column. Her back protested and the impact drew all air from her lungs. The strand of hair that had fallen into her face during the collision fluttered slightly in the breeze of her erratic puffs.

"How dare you deny your deeds after everything that happened?!"

His voice trembled with tension and his eyes were wild in their search for answers. She was trapped between him, who pressed her own hands against her chest, and the unyielding stone behind her that vehemently refused to swallow her whole. Simply put: The circumstances could be better.

"You're nuts! Let me go!"

The Pharaoh stood too close to pull the little stunt with her knee again and she could shove him off about as well as a massive concrete wall. Neither her words nor her squirming seemed to impress him. He just stood there, staring down at her. The fact that he stood taller than her by at least a head frightened her even more. His distance to her was so small, she had to switch between his eyes, what made her headache even worse.

"I loved you.", he mumbled and drew a deep breath, "I loved you _so much_." The anger in his gaze ebbed away and left sheer devastation behind. Hoarseness crept into his voice and he looked as if he was fighting himself before he uttered the next words. "But I ... I can neither forgive what you've done nor can I forget it."

She felt relieved when he let go of one of her wrists but realized with a twinge of panic that his free fingers aimed for her cheek. The girl turned her head to the side to prolong the contact for as long as possible. Frantically she pressed against the smooth beads of his collar to keep him at bay. Just before he touched her face he blinked as if something came to his mind. His fingers bent, and he pulled them away.

"At least tell me why you did it.", he demanded while wholly releasing her, taking a step back. The air that his closeness had robbed her of again poured freely into her lungs and the odd heaviness upon her dissolved.

"Okay, uhm ..." She swallowed. Her eyes subtly flitted to the exit. "You really need professional help and I obviously have an appointment with a psychiatrist that also can't wait any longer, so ..."

With a hammering heart the girl set her foot toward the exit and waited for his reaction. But except for his eyebrows, which he pulled together, he didn't move. She dared to take another step. Backwards, so she could keep an eye on this lunatic. He still stood motionless. When she diverged further, he ground out a single word. She didn't understand it, but the sound of this strange language on his tongue intensified her migraine further. Not wanting to take her chance, she turned on her heel and sprinted for the corridor. After two steps she ran into something hard, which made her stagger back. Hand on her head she gazed at just what had discomfited her. Her eyes widened, horrified. A living jackal statue, at least eight feet in height, blocked her way, pointing an enormous spear to her chest.

She should have known that things only could go south after the mammoth running amok. To her left, a second statue descended from its pedestal with thundering steps. That turned her attention to the ancient king. Was he commanding these monstrosities?!

He came closer, shoulders squared. His expression turned to ice. As opposed to his voice that was neutral, impassive even, as he spoke.

"You committed an abhorrent crime. Not just against me, but against my family and the Gods. Your words don't hold any justification. You are not even confessing your guilt. I, Osiris Ahkmenrah, who is guarded by Ra, beloved by mother and father, peaceful, just and great by Khonsus might, fourth King of the fourth King, ruler of the land of my fathers, hereby sentence you to death."

Nita got the creeping horrors. Behind her, she could hear the scraping of stone. She whipped her head around and saw the guards lift their spears even higher. Then she looked back to the young man. He couldn't be serious! He wasn't just mad, he was batshit crazy!

"Listen." She appealingly raised her shaking hands and did her best to keep her voice level. "I'm sorry I barged in like that ... your Pharaoh ... ness. I'll just go and never return. Promise. Pinky swear. No need to commit a felony!"

"I cannot let you go!", he pressingly retorted.

She backed away from the statues that were waiting for his final command, but she didn't want to get too close to the insane pharaoh either, so she was forced to move toward the pillar again. Whatever he was talking about, he was serious. She was on the verge of being perforated by two oversized shashlik skewers.

"Please ...", she appealed while feverishly looking for an escape that didn't seem to exist. "That's not ... I ... I haven't ... I don't even know you!"

Nita saw how the man blinkingly closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip. When they opened again, she reckoned to see them glazed over with moistness. He caught her gaze and held it. A lump formed in her throat. His mouth twitched twice, but only the third time did words actually leave it. As if he couldn't bear to look at her face any longer, his gaze pinned to her feet. In the next moment the heavy air in the tomb was pierced by the sharp spears, coming down onto the young woman. With a high-pitched scream she yanked her arms above her head and wrenched her eyes shut.

"Wait!"

A cracking, Nicky-ish voice resounded from the exit. It was accompanied by the sound of rubber soles scraping over stone. The girl felt the draft of movement in front of her and lowered her arms to see what it was. Indeed, it was the boy who was blocking the statues' path with outstretched hands. Their spear tips almost grazed his face and Nita had to fight the rising nausea. With immense relief she perceived how the King stopped his guards from hurting the child with a hand raised in panic. Completely shaken, the boys stared at each other. In the end, it was the older one who broke the silence.

"You should not be here right now."

All of a sudden, he looked more like an older brother who was gripped to the marrow by fright.

"Why do you want to hurt her? Dude, she's my friend." The fact that he tried to shield her from the Pharaoh with his much smaller body stung her heart.

"That is very complicated, Nicky.", he hesitantly replied. "You ... You should go and look for your father."

Apparently, he considered it better to protect the kid's peace of mind and keep the reasons for this near-carnage to himself. Fast approaching footfalls grasped their attention and focused it on the hallway a moment later. Behind the jackals, Larry dashed into view, a Native American in tow, staple puller in hand. Nita's frantic pulse slowed down somewhat.

"Hey, what's going on – woah!"

He stumblingly came to a halt; his eyebrows almost reached his hairline.

"What happened here?", the American Indian asked and squeezed herself past Larry and the statues. She warily glanced between the monarch and the two New Yorkers. Her words pulled the night guard from his stupor. He stood between his son and the giant sculptures within the fraction of a second. The King shifted from one foot to the other, the motion looking bizarre coming from an ancient ruler.

"That is a long story, but-"

"Sunrise is about ten hours away. We have time.", Larry emphasized. That sparked Nita's hope to be able to leave this museum alive after all. Even though she probably had to be committed to a mental home subsequently.

"I appreciate your help." Tensely, the young man pressed his lips together. "But the memories ... I ... Go. Let me finish this."

The night guard and Native American exchanged an uneasy glance but stayed where they were. Nicky didn't budge either.

"There certainly is another way to fix this, but you have to tell us why you're so upset. What's going on, buddy?"

"This woman, she-"

"He's completely kooky!", the dark-haired girl defended herself after finally finding her voice again. The words, however, only passed her lips with reluctance. Her tongue had difficulties making sounds. "I didn't do anything, really! I swear to you, I've never seen him in my life!"

"How come Ammit has not yet devoured your heart?", the young Pharaoh inquired disdainfully.

"Can't you cut the crap already?!", she shouted with newly acquired grit, but flinched when a stinging pain developed in her eyes.

The king shot her a glare that would have turned her to ashes in his time and left the tomb. Shortly after, the rustling of tarp and the shattering of glass could be heard from outside. The girl blearily saw how Larry squinted in annoyance. Then, the young man returned to them, something in hand.

"You want me to believe you don't know who I am? You don't know what this is?" He raised the item in front of her nose. Through the veil, she discerned an amulet with a scarab on top. At the sight, a memory made itself known. Deep inside her remembrance something tried to break the surface. Unfortunately, she couldn't grasp it.

She wanted to answer the King, but the edges of her vision began to blacken before she was able to utter a sound. Her headache increased to insufferable agony and her legs suddenly refused to support her weight. Nita's last thought was streaked with fear of crashing into Nicky who still stood close by.


	3. From smoke to smother

**Hello, you wonderful people. Last time, I forgot to mention something. This story is set a few months after the second movie. In that exact movie, they say Ahkmenrah and his family are 3,000 years old. In the third one, it suddenly is 4,000 years. I settled for the first option, because Ahk's date of birth is mentioned in the original script of the second movie. Now, during the centuries, Egypt's seat of government shifted a lot, but in this age, it was in Thebes rather than in Memphis, so, as a result, Ahk is not interred near the pyramids in Giza, but in the Valley of the Kings.**

 **~References~**

 **-Wesekh: Collar consisting of several threads of beads**

 **-Shendyt: Kilt-like garment**

 **-Medjay: Initially the 'desert police' consisting of Nubian mercenaries, but in time the term became prevalent for any kind of lawman.**

 **-Deben: In this time period, money hadn't been invented yet, so they bartered for their things. Thus, deben was not their currency but rather a unified weight that functioned as value comparison. During the New Kingdom, it was a little more than 3 ounces.**

 **-Huy: Fan**

 **-Hemu: Servant**

 **-Duat: Underworld**

 **Alright, I'm done. Go, you are free!**

* * *

Her good-for-nothing brother would be in for it when he came home! Nefari gritted her teeth and increased the pressure on the rubbing stone. She ignored the pain in her cramped hands and went over the grain again and again until it was spread so thin that she had to push it back together.

 _Unreliable, lazy, feckless ..._ Ah!

Startled, she let go of the grinder and inspected her little finger. Blood accumulated in a scratch on the last knuckle. Dissatisfied with _everything_ , she shoved the digit between her lips. The pain got her to calm down and she realized the grist's readiness to be sifted. Her anger had done a lot of work for her. She filled the sieve and tapped it gently against her palm. A depressing number of husks rilled through its patched spots into the bowl of flour – not to mention the tiny grains of sand – so she had to repeat the process a couple of times.

From her perch on the potter's roof, she kept the main road in sight. At least the small part she was able to see beyond the courtyard wall. She blinked into the early sunbeams that were sneaking over the flat roofs as the city revived itself. Cavorting children could be heard, as well as a handful of men who were struggling with the broken axle of a wagon by the roadside. The squeaking of the gate's hinges startled her. _At last!_ She hurriedly cast the sieve aside and covered the bowl to keep hungry birds away.

"Ranheb!" Yanking a fistful of her dress' fabric off her feet, she stomped down the well-trodden stairs into the yard. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you? I'm sick of it! You can't just come and go however it suits you! Why can't you get that into your pig head?" She almost twisted her ankle on the last step in her rage. "Let me tell you something: that was the last time you..."

On closer inspection of the figure in front of the kiln, her words caught in her throat. It didn't very much resemble her brother anymore.

"By Isis! What happened to you?!"

Ranheb swayed before her, more unconscious than not. His left eye was swollen completely shut and colored an awful tint of violet. A dried string of blood stuck to the corner of his mouth and Nefari could only hope that it originated in a busted lip rather than a knocked out tooth. Additionally, his nose was bloodied, but it didn't appear to be broken. His tunic – the only one the girl was still able to clean half-decently by the way – had a long, frayed tear all the way down to the belly, which revealed a nasty looking bruise. Dirt and dust had settled on his clothes and in his hair.

"Sorry for being late," he pressed out with heavy tongue.

"Come inside! Let me look at that!"

Carefully, she put her arm around his waist and guided him into the workshop. There, it took some time until he had seated himself on top of the low table. While moving, his face displayed all the pain he was enduring and he groaned and grunted, even though he attempted to stifle it all too much. His sister rushed to the top floor and brought the sewing basket and a small cloth back down with her. She poured the rest of the water from pitcher into a flat dish and immersed the rag in it. As softly as she could, she washed over the lower half of his face.

"What happened?" She squatted down in front of him to better reach his face.

"Djadhu happened."

The young woman's hand paused in its cleansing and she looked him in the eye reproachfully. Before she could express her discontent, however, he continued.

"I was on my way home last night, when I met him and his stupid friends. They started insulting me and when I didn't react, they dragged _you_ into it ..."

Nefari shook her head. She began to clean his nose with small, circular motions.

"How many were they?"

"... Five," he admitted, fidgeting on the tabletop.

"You can't be serious! Starting a brawl while being outnumbered five to one?!", she blurted out, wiping his battered nose rougher than intended. When he winced, remorse clutched her with sharp nails. "Congratulations, Ranheb. This is officially the stupidest idea you've ever had!"

"And what was I supposed to do in your opinion, eh? Let him keep bragging about how the two of you- OW! Stop squeezing that!" Furiously, he pulled his head away so she couldn't examine his eye anymore, but the girl gripped his chin unrelentingly and turned his face toward her once more.

"Listen. Djadhu is the son of a he-goat who needs to look at his toes in order to count farther than to ten. Nothing he says should get under your skin like that."

"Instead of this constant nagging, how about a 'Thank you for defending my honor, brother?'"

The potter emitted a snort and looked into his eyes, shaking her head. He was the picture of misery, slouching before her like that. Her anger vaporized like water on a hot rock.

"You're a fool," she scolded quietly, placing her hand on his uninjured cheek. "I was worried about you."

He nodded, eyes wandering to his dust-covered toes.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Where have you been the rest of the night?"

"... Lying in some alleyway."

"That stubborn head you're carrying around on your shoulders is going to be the death of you someday."

"That's the ultimate proof of us being related," he grinned. Surely, it was supposed to be charming, but his face just looked contorted and unproportionate with his recent lesions. The young woman returned the cloth to the water bowl and put a hand on his knee.

"I am grateful. But please, don't do anything like that again."

"Now, I can't make any promises. Next time I run into Djadhu alone, I -"

Nefari's pointed look cut through the air faster than an arrow and pierced him deeper than one ever could. He swallowed.

"Promise."

A satisfied expression gentled her face and she patted his hand before getting up and putting the small basket with needles and thread into his lap.

"Go ahead and stitch your tunic while I'm gone."

Groaning, he squinted down at himself. After that, he groaned even louder, realizing how stupid his first action had been.

"Nefari -"

"Forget it. You screwed this up, you set it right. With those injuries of yours, you can't do anything productive today anyway."

"But it's going to be crooked if I do it," he whined.

"Think of it as today's lesson."

That ended their discussion. The girl reached for the bowl and hauled its contents in a high arc into the yard. If Ranheb couldn't even lift a finger without pain, he wouldn't for the life of him be able to go clay digging in weeks. Great. More problems. Did she have a target pinned to her back for those?

* * *

"You should cease staring into space and start concentrating instead!"

The teacher's impatient voice tore Ahkmenrah from his thoughts. Evidently, it occurred to the chubby man that his pupil's gaze kept wandering beyond the balcony's alabaster pillars, out into the open. Admittedly, all he could see were the peaks of the jagged mountains in the distance, but even that was better than having Nahim beat those never-ending legal texts into his mind. It was so boring. He wondered how he was able to keep his eyes open at all. His only distraction was the small breaths of air that reached him every time his servant, Tem, lowered the large fan of ostrich feathers. And if the pinnacle of your day was the motion of warm air, you did not, in fact, live an exciting life.

The prince looked to the right. Tani still stood next to him with her fruit plate, staring down at the quartered figs on it. He was willing to bet she hadn't moved by the width of a finger for the whole time she had been poised there now. Not even her weight she had shifted. If he was honest, he deemed her presence superfluous. Just standing around unmoving, loaded with food ... What did they have tables for? He wasn't even particularly hungry, but when he had tried to send her away, she had almost burst into tears for fear he might be malcontented with her work. So to spare her the mental breakdown, he had just left it at that and now ignored her presence as best as he could.

Her apprehension regarding him was unsettling. Then again, none of his servants were outstandingly partial of him. Not that he judged them for it; he would likely behave in a similar manner if he had been in their place. Still, the fact that they couldn't even look him in the face grated on him. Sometimes, he felt as if his eyes could transmit a lethal disease. They all avoided them like a plague.

He shook his head and focused on the tutor in front of him whose fingers were drumming on the armrest of his chair in an impatient rhythm.

"Forgive me." He blinked and put his mind to listening to his opposite. „Please continue, Nahim."

The other man again looked down to the papyrus scroll that was unfurled on his knees and resumed reading where the disinterest of the prince had interrupted him a moment ago. Ahkmenrah was watching him closely while trying to memorize the read formulations. Maybe a bit too closely. He noticed that the kohl lining around Nahim's eyes wasn't symmetrical, which indicated he had had them drawn with haste to arrive in time in Ahkmen's study for his lessons. It happened on occasion, usually when he was pondering over one or another document, forgetting the time. The young man's gaze roamed past his educator anew, this time getting caught by the sheer cloths that danced in the wisps of wind like reed in a stream between the columns.

"Ahkmenrah! You are _not_ listening to me!" The bald man noted, pressing his lips together disapprovingly.

"Of course I am. I just-"

Oh, who was he fooling? He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I am sorry. I just do not understand the concept behind this bigoted memorization."

Nahim exhaled quaveringly. It seemed as if his thread of patience was only held together by a few thin fibers. If he weren't so unlikable, you could almost feel sorry for him.

"The concept behind it is your being a good advisor to your brother when he ascends the throne."

Ahkmen huffed and propped up his chin with his fist.

"And, of course, we all know that is only going to work if I learn every text that exists by heart. Should I look up but the tiniest word, I will plunge us all into eternal damnation."

A shadow flitted across the teacher's face. It betrayed his burning desire to backtalk, but he kept quiet. Probably for fear of saying something he would have regretted. Instead, he took a deep breath that stretched his already big belly even further and stared at the prince unblinkingly.

"If you have to constantly run through your manuscripts prior to handing out an advice, you are going to be the worst counselor this land has ever seen!"

"Kahmunrah has never before heeded my words. He certainly won't start doing so when he is King," he stated, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose. "All I want to say is that I consider it best to find the solution for a problem myself instead of drilling stiff, ancient phrasing into my head."

"It is not your place to question methods which have produced a success for centuries!"

"That is not what I am trying to do. But, Nahim, have you never thought it better to issue a judgment individually as opposed to generalizing everything?"

Face distorted and eyebrows furrowed furiously, the tutor rolled up the writing on his lap and slapped it onto the table with more force than necessary.

"Proceeding with these lessons while you do not even _want_ to learn leads nowhere," he declared and rose. "My servant will come for the documents later."

At that, he maneuvered past Tani and Tem and headed for the door that lead to Ahkmen's reception room.

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that!" he called after the older man and turned in his chair. But all he saw, all he heard was the cedar wood door that snapped shut. What followed was a deafening silence. Oh Amun, what a stubborn person! How could one be huffy to such an extent? The answer to that eluded the prince, despite the fact that he had been tutored by him since his fifth year of age.

He stretched out in the chair and feebly lowered his head onto the backrest, remaining in that position for a while. His eyes tracked the artfully drawn lines that spread over his ceiling while he digested his current situation. If he was unlucky, Nahim would inform the Pharaoh of their disagreement. Ahkmenrah suppressed a groan. That was not going to end well. His father was a strict man who didn't take kindly to the disobedience of his sons. In case the tutor did indeed approach the King in this matter, the young man could bid goodbye to each and every joy in his life. Was that thought too melodramatic? Possibly. At that very moment, an idea came to his mind that made him sit up abruptly.

His combat training was not scheduled until mid-afternoon, when the sun wasn't burning down on the land full-force anymore. That meant nobody would miss him before then. There was a faint voice in his head that advised him against his intention, but he thrust it aside. He couldn't make it any worse anyway, so he pushed himself out of the seat, mind settled.

The sudden movement startled Tem so much, he bungled in his fanning pattern. With a smile on his lips, the prince turned to his servants, interlaced his fingers and endeavored to look unsuspicious.

"You may go."

Tem instantly reacted by ceasing his task and reclining the fan against the wall behind him with lowered head. Tani took a bit longer, but after indecisively watching the man, she too set her plate on the table. Both of them bowed – without looking at him, of course – and left the study in silence. Even though the lack of eye contact irked him to no end, Ahkmenrah wasn't capable of keeping the grin of anticipation off his face. After he made sure the servants weren't lingering around in his quarters, he opened the door and crossed his reception room, heading straight for the bedchamber and on through to the dressing room. While still walking, he opened the clasp of his _wesekh_ and lifted it above his head. Carefully, he stowed it away inside the third chest to his left, before also divesting himself of his golden bracers and blue tunic. In its place, he pulled out a simple knee-length _shendyt_ between the garments. He had come by the unbleached, pleated kilt a few years ago, when he had swapped a kitchen boy a faience-ring for it . To this day he had never regretted that decision, not once.

Engaged in tying the _shendyt_ around his waist, he stepped out onto the balcony of his reception room. Immediately, he felt the touch of Ra's warm hands which the canopy above weakened enough so he could bear heat and brightness.

As a result, his view was clear and unadulterated when he let it wander. To his left, the lush green gardens stretched out, with all the exotic plants and artificial ponds, to be interrupted only by the sedate river in the distance. Countless ships coming and going upon it. Regardless of whether they were tiny ferries or huge, fully loaded trade boats, they all used the winds and current equally to reach their destination.

On his right hand, the temple complex seemed to be built far into the desert. Unfortunately, its high gates blocked his view of the city. To make up for it, his balcony's position compensated him with the most gorgeous sunrises one could imagine. Smiling, he scaled the parapet and cautiously lowered himself on the other side. He swung his legs a bit to put some space between him and the balustrade before detaching his hands from the stone.

The soft grass dampened his fall, and in addition to that he crouched down to absorb the rest of the momentum when his feet hit the ground. Hastily, he looked around to check if someone had seen him, but there was no one. The grin on his face broadened. Very well, he was halfway through. With his heart beating in excitement, he proceeded towards the palace wall and sneaked alongside it under the cover of trees and shrubs. Quiet noises reached the prince's ears, and their volume increased the closer he got to the servants' entrance. There, life pulsated: Dozens of people walked all over the place. Many of them carried pots or fabrics, some had hand-drawn carts, a few were even pulled by oxen and donkeys. Between all those workers, he was invisible like a single sand grain in a dune as he slipped through the passageway. His disguise assimilated him wonderfully into the mass, nobody looked at him twice

The road in front of the palace seemed to exist in a whole other world. It grew louder, livelier, with every step he took from his home. Even the breath of air that drifted by his nose smelled different. No longer warm and stifling, but somehow... friendlier. More inviting. It smelled of freshly baked bread and cooking fires; of wood and dyed linen. He even thought he was able to sniff out the scent of the ocean that stuck to his memory from the vacations he had been on in the delta.

And then the people he encountered! Whether they were bespangled with gold or dressed in rags, they couldn't be more different from one another. Today was not the first time he had snuck out of the palace, but this flood of new sights would never cease to astound him. The prince was sure that, with the face-splitting grin he was wearing, the passersby thought him a madman, but he couldn't have cared less.

The closer he strolled up to the marketplace, the louder the sounds of haggling became. Everywhere, someone advertised his goods, only to be drowned out by braying donkeys, chattering geese, or barking dogs. A bald man to his left was boisterously bargaining for a copper chisel for which the demanded price was "horrendous", obviously. Ahkmen's eyes roved over the different stalls. Some of them were covered by reed mats or cloths to protect the merchants and products from the scorching sun. Others were located inside tents whose tarps were flapping in their suspensions. Several had simply settled in the buildings' shadows. And all the things you could buy! Figurines, amulets, clothes, food, furniture, jewelry... There was so much to see, he had his difficulty keeping his attention on one thing for long.

Right now, right at this moment, Ahkmenrah felt a happiness like he hadn't had in a long time. If only he had known then how quickly this exhilaration was to disappear again.

* * *

Today definitely wasn't a good day, not by any means. At least not in Nefari's opinion. Sullenly, she sat on her mat, watching the merchants around her bartering to a fare-thee-well. All the girl had been able to sell in five hours were two bowls for which she had gotten a small sack of grain. The purchasers seemed more interested in the tools from the stall next to her. Even the fisherman at the far end of the square was in greater demand than her, though the vile stench of his goods was attacking her nose constantly.

Frustrated, she turned to eye a couple of boys who were desperately trying to convince their donkey to keep going. The animal was thoroughly unconvinced by the idea. Stubbornly, it rammed its hooves into the ground and leaned backwards. The children pushed and pulled, but it got its way. That made her check on her own donkey behind her. Pepy stood in the shade of a house, dozing away peacefully with his head hanging. Fortunately, he was forbearing, frugal and tolerant. That very well might be because of his advanced age, but she wasn't going to complain.

"I like this pot," a voice above her declared. When the girl inclined her head, she was greeted by the friendly eyes of an elderly woman. Her smile was infectious and the corners of the potter's mouth lifted. The woman picked up a plain, undecorated crock and inspected it from every angle.

"I have another one like that on my cart, but with a pattern," Nefari stated and rose, frantically searching the load area for the vessel in question. Maybe this day took a turn for the better after all!

Maybe it didn't.

A loud cry and the shattering of clay made her turn around shortly after. Aghast, she tried to comprehend the horrific sight that played out in front of her. All her goods on the mat had been reduced to nothing but a pile of shards. Amidst it, a young man was lying, dazedly holding his head. The old woman had leapt aside in shock and was now staring at the mess before her feet, just as all the bystanders did. Meanwhile, the perpetrator of total destruction picked himself off the ground, looking worried about the fragments surrounding him.

"Oh no! Can't you watch your step? Damn it, do you know how long it took us to make all these?!" the young woman snapped and stomped toward him while he was still attempting to regain his balance.

"I am so sorry." Shaking the last of the chips from his _shendyt_ , his gaze flitted to her. "The donkey-" He turned around and searched for something.

"Halt!" she exclaimed when he found it and was about to dart away.

"Stay here!" Indignantly, she snatched his upper arm before he was able to run. "Where do you think you're going?"

With an uncomprehending expression, he looked her in the face. Then, his eyes fixated on her hand.

"Retrieving the ones at fault, as it happens." Grim lines appeared around his mouth. "Release my arm."

His tone of voice was cold to the point that a shiver went down her spine, even in the ardent sun. She ground her teeth, but withstood his glaring.

"You take me for a fool? That I fall for such a stupid scam?"

Her words pushed his dark brows into one another and narrowed his eyes warily.

"What are you talking about? The boys with the donkey were the ones, who-" He faced the other way again and glanced around the plaza. "Now they are gone."

Of course they were.

"Please! Enough of this already. I can see through it," she angrily yelled. "And I'm only saying this once, so listen carefully: you don't get a discount on the broken pottery. You're just going to glue it back together and sell it yourself!"

" _What?_ " He wrinkled his nose. "I do not want your stupid pots! Now, _take your hand off my arm!"_

The acid in his words pressured her to retreat, but she refused to be intimidated by it. Defiantly, she jutted her chin out and took a step closer. Her hand stayed where it was. Having to look up to him when answering irritated her tremendously, but he had at least a head on her.

"Fine. Maybe you don't want to wheedle them out of me. But you will replace them! The full price!

He huffed dryly.

"I will do nothing of the sort! It was not my fault!"

"You broke them," she insisted, "compensation appertains to me. If you refuse to pay it, I'm going to call the _medjay_."

Since Ranheb had picked a quarrel with the guards a few years ago, she didn't really want to have to do anything with them, but she wasn't about to let him get away unscathed. It was her perfectly good right and she wouldn't be the one to yield. The two of them hurled venomous glares at each other for such a long time, the cluster of people around them lost interest in their contention and broke apart.

"Fine!" he eventually spat, but seemed distinctively unsatisfied. "How much do I owe you?"

The girl peeled her hand off his arm and observed the flinders at her feet, gauging their worth. There it was, the work of several weeks. She lifted her gaze and dragged it across the boy's appearance to his face. His kilt was in better condition than her dress, but despite that, he didn't exactly look like someone who could just pay her out. Not to mention the fact that he obviously didn't have anything of value on his person he could relinquish to her.

"Three _deben_ of copper," she informed him and studied his reaction. That is, if he would react... But he didn't. He just stared straight ahead at the wall of the house behind her. So it was as she'd thought; he was too poor to recompense her. Well, again her typical luck.

"I cannot give you anything today."

In her ears, this sentence sounded a lot like 'You will never get your restitution, but you can wave it farewell if you wish'. If she let him go, his back would be the last thing she would ever see from him, she knew. What stranger returned to square their debts, after all? No, there had to be another way. While pondering, an idea occurred to her.

"Do you have any infirmities?" she asked, mind reeling. He looked at her with scrunched up face and narrowed eyes.

"Pardon me?"

"You know, is one of your legs too short or do you have back problems?"

"Do I look sick to you?"

She left the question hanging and took a step back.

"You're going to help me."

"With what?" he skeptically inquired, crossing his arms.

"Digging for clay."

The young man looked at her as if she wasn't quite right in the head. As if she had suggested juggling with hippopotamuses. But what he thought was unimportant. She had made her decision.

"No," he told her firmly. Nefari sighed.

"Listen, I realize you can't afford to pay me out and I don't judge you for it because I know exactly how that feels. But we have to come to some agreement and your help is the only thing you can give."

Suddenly, the corner of his mouth began twitching and something that looked like smug self-satisfaction smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows.

"You think I cannot afford the price of three _deben_?"

"Sorry," she gestured at his _shendyt_ , "But that's pretty obvious."

He thought about something and then shook his head resolutely.

"I am not going to scrabble through mud."

"Your choice," she shrugged, eyes scouting around the square for a _medjay._ Not long after, she spotted one at the remote fruit stall. It took the boy a moment, but he finally got her intention. His face contorted in utter unhappiness, while he seemingly debated with himself. Then, after a long silence, he grudgingly nodded and spat out his words as if they were soaked with poison.

"I will help you."

* * *

A seldomly felt rage spread out in Ahkmenrah's gut. He didn't remember being treated with such little respect. Ever. If she knew who she was talking to, she would beg the ground to open and swallow her up. He had contemplated revealing his identity to her at the beginning. Oh, how he had contemplated! But apparently, his disguise had overshot the mark so much, she wouldn't believe him anyway. And he wasn't able to prove it without the whole palace learning of his short trips. If they gained knowledge of them, they would put a stop to it faster than he could blink. He already heard their voices. 'Too dangerous', they would say, and 'not befitting your rank'.

No, he would not sacrifice this dear pastime for an impertinent brat! So, he swallowed his anger - almost choking on it - and began gathering the shards and loading them onto the ramshackle cart as the girl directed. Various scenarios of vengeance scurried before his mind's eye. Most of them were about judicially decreed slaps round the face. Then, a voice that distinctively sounded like his father's reprimanded him for it. _There has never a reasonable decision been made out of revenge, Ahkmenrah._ Yes, well, he definitely would adopt another view if he could see his youngest son now, following the instructions of a peasant...

He looked over to her, watching her pile up her own heap of remnants. Since right now she was too busy to impale him with one of her audacious stares, he was able to have a closer look at her.

The black hair, coated with the dust of the marketplace, was plaited into a long braid that rested on her shoulder. Her roughly woven dress had blemishes in its fabric, and it was bristled with faded stains which probably couldn't be washed out anymore.

The girl's face was, in one word, unremarkable. So much so, it would disappear in a crowd easily. Nothing about it attracted attention by any means. Though, what did stand out, in the truest sense of the word, was her collarbone. Beneath the skin of her shoulders he additionally noticed her joints. She was a walking skeleton. He may have felt a bit of remorse now, for destroying her only source of income – even though, philosophically speaking, the boys with the donkey had been the ones to shove him onto the mat.

"Come on, hurry up," she then nagged and brought her precious shards to the vehicle. The donkey stupidly gazed as she went past.

So much for his bad conscience.

Scowling, he followed her while she unraveled the animal's bindings and eased it onto the main street along with the cart. The young man found no words to express how much him walking behind her irked him, but he had no idea where she was headed.

"By the way, do you have a name?" her voice breached the silence. He stared at the back of her head. Damn it! What was he supposed to tell her? Not his real name, that was for certain. Biting his lower lip, his gaze roamed his surroundings, getting caught by a green fan which a boy took after a rich woman. _Huy?_ Huya!

"Of course I have a name," he huffed with newly found confidence. "What kind of a question is that?"

"And are you going to reveal it, or should I just call you _hemu_?"

His eyes narrowed.

 _Hemu_.

This woman had the extraordinary talent of bringing him to a white hot rage faster than his brother. That was a feat. Well, two could play that game. He reached into the lead rope and halted. With him, the animal stopped, too, and the girl was abruptly yanked back. Jaws clenched together, she turned around to the young prince. Her eyes showed the contemplation of running a rusty, blunt object into his intestines. Ahkmenrah couldn't bite back a condescending grin at this sight.

"I am Huya. What is your name?" he asked, seeking to put on an innocent expression while tilting his head. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

"Nefari."

Huh. If she hadn't shattered his nerves in the last half-hour he _possibly_ could admit the name wasn't half bad. He cleared his throat.

"Now that we are on speaking terms," she threw a glare over her shoulder, clearly signifying that she wasn't very keen on that circumstance, "are you planning on letting me in on what I got myself into?"

"My brother and I have a pottery-" she began. Ahkmen raised an eyebrow.

"What a revelation."

"Stop interrupting me!" the girl snapped, which baffled him. Someone speaking out against him was a rare event, but she didn't mind his obvious anger and instead continued her little story. "Usually, my brother brings home the clay, but he got into a fight last night and now can't even take three steps. So, you are going to help me to get his job done."

He really was not thrilled by these prospects in the slightest, but then again, what did he expect? Only now did he realize she purposefully directed them to a small, two-storied house which was encompassed by a wall. It seemed like this was her pottery shop.

"Oh Gods, please, give me strength," the prince murmured and followed her through the so generously held open gate. Inside, the yard was smaller than it appeared to be from the outside. Presumably because of the kiln which was located at the outer wall to his right. A tiny shed for the donkey additionally minimized the remaining space. Some beaten stairs led up to the roof. From where he stood he made out a lashed-up canopy. Maybe her kitchen was up there. The house itself wasn't very inviting, at least not anymore. After its construction it might have even been nice. It was made out of mud bricks, distempered in white, and the windows were set high into the walls to keep sand and heat out.

Now, not only did the paint crumble in many spots, but the material under it as well. A threadbare curtain hung in the doorway, gently wafting in the breeze. He was sure a rat scurried past the building entrance, so altogether he was thankful for being able to usually stay far from such... _simple dwellings_... The background noise from the street, which the decaying wall of course couldn't hold back, wasn't very appealing, either. The house had not been erected on the most pleasant piece of land.

When Nefari began decanting the earthen fragments from her cart into some undamaged vessels, he was required to lend a hand. Afterwards, they loaded up the wagon anew, this time with flat molds into which, according to the girl, the clay would be pressed when finally found. He shortly mulled over how long she was going to rope him in for this. Looking at the sun, he decided he roughly had five hours left before he needed to be back in the palace.

Not long after, they left the yard. He had never exited the city the way the girl had chosen, and even now he would have been able to live without doing so. The closer they got to the city limits, the bleaker the scenery became. The plain houses of the lower middle class gave way to crudely built one-roomers. Soon, they were met by dirty people in shabby clothing. Many of them looked ill. Some were crippled or disfigured. Moreover, the tamped road beneath his soles loosened up more and more, so eventually the cart's wheels were dragging deep grooves into the sand. Yet, the worst was the stench. It smelled of feces, diseases, and death.

Only with great difficulty was he able to suppress a gag while keeping his straight face. How did the people cope with it? It was horrible! He felt the desperate urge to pour perfume into his nose until it came out of his ears. Even the _inside_ of his body should have been doused with it. This drive, however, receded after leaving the seedy quarter behind, and before long they stepped onto a path that led to the riverbank. Greening fields surrounded them, laced by the blue ribbons of the canals. A few farmers could be heard nearby, sweetening the harvest of their last crops with a song. He thought it admirable that they all had it still in them to sing, doing this work. Nefari took him to a ragged pit close to the much-used waterway. It was bordered by a couple of small boulders. One quick glance over its edge revealed a good deal of rubble inside.

"Now, this is our spot." She stopped the vehicle and reached for something on the load area which she then handed to him. It was a hoe, truly not more than a flat piece of copper on top of the handle, reinforced by a twisted leather strap. He skeptically rolled it between his fingers. "We have to dig deep."

Two hours later, they still hadn't achieved anything. The ground was dry and they had to constantly clear debris out of the pit. This labor was so _exhausting!_ Drained, the disguised prince wiped his forehead, sweat dripped down his face in copious amounts. Ra blazed down upon his bare back and not even the proximity to the river procured alleviation. Although his combat training hat bolstered up his stamina, his muscles were unused to this new movements and cried out in protest after a while. And the flies that relentlessly settled onto his wet skin! No matter how often he waved them away, the pests always returned. It almost drove him insane!

The girl worked beside him, her dress just as grimy as his kilt. Strands of hair had come loose from her plait and stuck to her face, while she abused the soil with her own tool. It was the first time he witnessed a woman getting her hands dirty. Well, a woman he had bandied more than two words with anyway. Admittedly, his range was not very broad to begin with. In fact, only his mother and his cousin Isetamun came to mind when he thought about it and neither of them came into question for this sort of exertion. Then there was Semat, the girlfriend of his best friend Bek, but not even she could be convinced to do this.

Suddenly, Nefari uttered a sound of relief that made him jerk. He turned around irritated and only just saw how she put aside her implement. She began clawing at the dirt and eventually brought a damp, reddish brown matter to light. It looked pretty nondescript, after all this drudgery he certainly had expected more.

"Push the clay into the mold like this," she explained while pulling over one of the wooden objects to fill it up. He studied the movement of her filthy hands and mimicked it on his own frame. The task was fairly undemanding, but incredibly tiresome.

"Be careful to not pack in regular mud."

With spread out fingers, the potter stopped him from doing exactly that. He snorted.

"And, pray tell, what dreadful event is going to occur if I do?"

"The clay will burst during the baking. And I really don't feel like working for nothing, so do it diligently!"

This imperious tone she ordered him around with _did not sit well with him!_ Brewing in his anger, he began filling his frame and then, when Ra had dried the clay, taking it out and piling it on the cart. It was deadly boring and _hot_ and not for the first time did he regret putting Nahim off this morning. He would have rather dealt with the dreary texts. But no, instead, he was digging his way through the mud like some worm! While the young prince cursed his earlier lack of concentration to the _duat_ and back for the 158th time in three hours, the ground beneath his feet suddenly sagged. The edge he had worked on broke off and he was barely able to yelp in surprise before it took him with it into the abyss.


	4. A strange girl

**Oh my gosh, you guys! Thank you so much for your feedback and your lovely reviews! This means so much to me. I'm literally physically unable to stop grinning! So, here we go. More of Ahk and Nef bickering and, of course, more ancient Egyptian stuff:**

 **-Akhet: Season of inundation (July to October)**

 **-Maat: Goddess, as well as concept of justice, cosmic order, and truth**

 **-Waset: Ancient city of Thebes; present-day Luxor**

 **-Shasha: Fool, stupid**

 **-Khopesh (also vocalized 'khepesh'): Traditional sickle-sword**

* * *

The wooden frame fell out of Ahkmenrah's grasp as he crashed into the narrow ledge that protruded into the river beneath him. Lumps of earth hailed down onto him, causing him to shield his head with his arms protectively. Nefari called his name over the din of the chunks plunging into the waters, but he was too preoccupied with not suffocating on the dirt in his nose to answer.

Dazedly, he propped himself onto hands and knees, trying to stand up fully, and a sharp pain bolted up his right forearm. His eyes burned terribly when he opened them. Doing his best to clear them of dust, he tilted his head and blinkingly gazed up. A chunk was missing in the edge above, soil still trickling down from the newly formed scarp. They had been working on unsupported ground the whole time. It had probably been washed-out by last year's high flood. No wonder it had given way.

Around his small, safe island shimmered the greenish water, cutting him off from land except for the steep wall in front of him. If he didn't want to swim – and really, he _did not_ – he had to climb. From within the void the landslide had left in its wake, the head of the young woman appeared, half-dissolved braid dangling over her shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, horror-stricken. He made another attempt at sitting up, only stressing his left arm this time.

"What ..." Moving his tongue distributed a lot of sand in his mouth and it took way longer than he liked to spit it all out. "What about this situation makes you think everything could be alright?"

She stared down at him, nonplussed, but her features smoothened out eventually.

"Well, if you're still able to rant like that, it can't be too bad."

Ahkmenrah snorted.

"My arm is not working like it should anymore."

Carefully, he wiped the filth off his skin over the painful spot. A bloody rivulet paved its way through the remaining grime. His eyes followed the dark red beads' path to the ground, only to get caught by the splintered mold next to his leg. He must have rammed it into his forearm during the impact. The prince's knees were littered with scrapes and scratches, his _shendyt_ looked completely squalid.

"Can we please leave this place before _akhet_ starts?" her impatient voice ripped him from his observations. His attention concentrated on the girl extending her hand to him. Uncomprehendingly, he gaped at her.

"What is it?" She swung the limb back and forth. "Come on."

With compressed lips he struggled to stand up straight and reached for her arm, groping about the ground for a usable foothold. It was difficult between all the dust and rocks. Uncertain he wouldn't slip off right away, the young man began pulling himself up.

The yank jerked her forward and a strained wheeze escaped her lips. She reacted blazing fast by snatching him with her other hand, just in time to lean backwards. He was genuinely afraid of ripping her shoulder joint out of its socket with all the force he applied. Her arm was so skinny his fingers overlapped despite the fact that he was almost holding onto her by her elbow.

Together they succeeded in dragging him high enough for him to take two vertical steps. Unfortunately, that didn't go well for much longer; the mixture of dirt and sweat coating his hands made them slippery and he began skidding down. Desperately, Nefari fought against it, but the excruciating effort made her tremble so much, clutching her arm became increasingly difficult. Damn it! It the donkey's lead rope hadn't been so short, it could have pulled the man up the abyss.

"Don't let go!" she panted, but at the same time he felt how her own grasp loosened.

"Oh really now? But it is so tempting!"

"Less nagging, more climbing!"

The young man clenched his teeth, the wound pained him with every yank. Every step he managed to take made him slip down her arm further. Soon, he only clutched her wrist. Just before losing her for good, he found a safe foothold and pushed himself over the edge.

Nefari leaned backwards, pulling, until he had crawled far enough from the chasm. Worn out and with burning muscles he stayed next to her, gaze fixated on the treacherous ground behind him. A good part of the clay pit had plummeted down with him. He raked his fingers through his short locks, dislodging the dust that had settled there.

" _Never again!"_ he finally declared, picking himself up and starting to dust himself as best as he could. Her weary countenance cracked, and she lifted a teasing brow while straightening herself.

"And to me it seemed that you had so much fun."

Ahkmenrah narrowed his eyes, but the facial play went unnoticed by her as she was already turning her attention to the cart. By all appearances, his involuntary climbing hadn't fazed the donkey in the slightest. It just stood there, bored, trying to drive away the irritating flies with its ears.

"This near-death experience does imply the end of our work here, yes?" he questioned after a while, looking from animal to girl. Her scrutinizing gaze swept over the clay blocks that were piling up on the loading space, then she nodded. The prince's spirits immediately lifted.

"In that case I am going to leave." He bowed his head, barely able to refrain from grinning about his recovered freedom, and turned around. For three steps he lived in complete bliss, but then she called after him.

 _Now what?_

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder. She had freed the donkey from its bind and now petted it between the ears. One of her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. Oh, Ahkmen detested this know-all expression.

"We are finished _here_ ," she elaborated. "But fetching the clay is only the beginning."

His head dropped back, and he couldn't suppress an indignant groan. By now he was convinced that Maat had inflicted this girl upon him as a penalty for his unexpectedly abbreviated lesson that morning.

"But," He crossed his arms, "I have been working in the dirt for hours like you told me to! I fell and slashed my arm!" He raised said extremity for more emphasis. "Is that not enough?"

"No,"she stated dryly. At that, he threw her his best 'submit-to-my-will' glare he could muster, but much to his chagrin she seemed to be immune to it. Perhaps that was because she, too, had mastered it so well. Honestly, he was surprised by that fact. In his case it was the result of living in the palace for 18 years, but how had she come by it?

"Let's go home. My brother will start gnawing at his hand if dinner's not on the table soon."

Grumpily, he followed her. Neither of them said another word. The entire way, Ahkmen pressed his hand onto his wound so that the bleeding would stop. He walked a little way behind Nefari, so at least he gave the impression of not knowing her. They arrived at _Waset's_ outskirts and again he wished for his nose to fall off so that he wouldn't have to endure this horrible stench. Although, he did find out he was able to hold his breath for exactly 95 strides before he began seeing stars. After they'd left the shanty town, he vowed to himself to never again set foot into it, no matter with what he was extorted.

As they neared the pottery shop, the girl indicated to him to keep the gate open while she towed the donkey cart through. Languidly, he pushed against the door and prevented it from clicking shut until she and the vehicle were standing in the yard.

"Unyoke Pepy and take him to his stable," she ordered, turning to the cart's load area and stacking as many clay blocks as she dared carry.

Tucking the bricks under her chin, she padded into the house, leaving Ahkmen alone. Frustrated, he kicked the powdery sand at his feet. Unfortunately the flying dust cloud was much too puny to satisfy his bad mood.

Because of the want of other animals that could be unyoked, he assumed that 'Pepy' was the donkey. As he began to examine the wagon tongue and straps that held it in place, the boy realized he had never unyoked a donkey before ... or any other animal for that matter. Not even the horses from his own chariot had ever been unfastened by himself.

Oh well, how hard could it possibly be?

First, the young man surveyed the leather straps that had been placed around Pepy's neck in one loop, proceeding to his shoulders in a second one. Since the axle - and with that the complete weight of the cart - was attached there, Nefari had bolstered the tether with a multiply-folded piece of fabric. Starting from the premise that every buckle was intended for opening, he first fumbled about the harness' chest section. The creature started to nervously tread on the spot at that.

"Easy there," Ahkmenrah whispered, hesitantly caressing it between the ears as he had seen the girl do. Opening the clasp with one hand was far from easy, but if it kept Pepy from running scared, it was worth it. When the binding was finally untied, the beast of burden even pressed its head into his chest, demanding further stroking. Chuckling quietly, he complied.

Gently, he freed his new friend from the harness, setting the cart's drawbar to the ground. He could hear the blocks thudding against the wood of the back of the cart. Leading rope in hand, he guided the animal to the stable after that. Well, maybe 'stable' wasn't the right term: A modest wooden scaffolding, interconnected by plant fibers, covered with palm leaves, and framed by a low mud brick wall. That was it. Pretty pathetic.

Suddenly, Nefari's furious voice resounded from the house. It was answered by a second, unmistakably male one. Shortly after, a young man pushed the curtain in the doorway aside, drudgingly limping through the yard. His complexion was a couple of shades darker than Ahkmen's and by the look of him he seemed to be older too. The worn greyish tunic, black eye and swollen lip only supported one conclusion: This was her brother.

"So, you are the one that destroyed our pots, eh?" he asked, panting with rage. If Ahkmenrah hadn't been so versed in asserting himself, this young man would have intimidated him in no small measure. But as matters stood, he jutted out his chin and squared his shoulders.

"I already explained to your sister that it was an accident-"

"Give it a rest, Ranheb!" Nefari came running out of the house angrily and seized her brother's shoulder. When he flinched, she withdrew her hand. "I already settled it, so calm down."

The two men continued to glare at each other. Ahkmenrah unwaveringly refused to break eye contact and in the end, it was Ranheb who turned away with a huff, heading for the clay blocks.

"What do you think you're doing?" his sister asked sharply.

"What does it look like? I'm unloading the cart," he grumbled. When he leaned forward to lift up some blocks, a hissing sound escaped his throat and his hand protectively darted to his right side. Did he have more injuries there?

"Forget it, _shasha!_ Your ribs are black and blue. Go inside and keep still!"

He watched her stubbornly, but soon something more merged into his gaze. Remorsefulness, maybe? Gloomily, he shuffled past the two and disappeared in the house entrance. The girl turned to the prince. Briefly, it seemed as though she wanted to vindicate her brother's animosity, but this facial expression vanished almost immediately.

"Will you help me to take the remainder of the clay to the cellar?"

"That sounds like I have a choice," he retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"Good point," she smirked. "Here you go."

Without hesitation, she thrust a pile of blocks into his arms, sending him on his way. Awkwardly, he shuffled past the curtain. The inside of the house wasn't overwhelmingly cool, but it sufficed for him to take a deep breath while looking around. He was standing in a tiny chamber from which two other rooms branched off left and right.

The walls were decorated with murals; astonishingly beautiful ones at that. Of course, they couldn't rival the ones in the palace, but the painter here had had an undeniable talent. By the look of it, the left room was a pantry. In the window's faint light he made out a couple of earthen pots, jugs and baskets.

The chamber to his right was slightly more spacious, empty save for Ranheb, who sat at a low table full of tools. Right in front of Ahkmenrah, a friable flight of stairs led to an upper floor where he suspected the bedroom.

Like the walls, the floor was made from mud, making it just as dusty as the yard outside. Honestly, he was able to relate to that to some extent. There wasn't much sense in constant cleaning if you didn't even have a _door_.

Inside a small nook next to the entrance, he spotted a figurine of Isis, barely larger than the palm of his hand. A short garland of cornflowers and carnations was draped around her wooden body, and unlike _everything else_ in this house the statue appeared to be new. The colors were downright radiant.

His attention flitted back to the burden in his arms. Helplessly, he looked over to the potter, who was pretermitting him in favor of the vessel he was working on. The prince sighed. Apparently, there was no getting around asking him.

"Where do I find your cellar?"

Ranheb tilted his head, glaring contemptuously and pointed at the far end of the workshop. Upon closer examination, Ahkmen discerned a more or less rectangular hole in the ground, toward which he headed. It had a trapdoor for closing, as occurred to him at his approach. Peering over the edge, his eyes fell upon a staircase that led to a lower level.

Admittedly, it was more of an intermediate floor. The cellar's ceiling was of such low height, it could only be entered in a crouched position. His feet were longer than the steps, so the experience of descending with a heap of clay before his eyes wasn't a pleasant one. With every step he ran the risk of stumbling and falling to his death.

To the boy's relief, he got down unharmed, although he did nearly hit his head when waddling in to pile his blocks onto those that were already stored there. They were roughly taking up a quarter of the space but considering the amount they still had to carry down here, the chamber would almost be full in the end.

"Huya?" the girl asked from above at that moment, coaxing him into stooping back to the stairway. "I'll hand you the clay, so you don't have to climb stairs all the time."

"Is there a reason why _I_ of all people have to stay down here?" he asked exasperated.

„Of course."

„Which is?"

„Because _I_ say so."

He could _hear_ the grin in her words and resorted to glaring at her, but she probably didn't notice it anyway, because of the darkness surrounding him. Then, he feared she would just chuck the blocks against his head, but to his own surprise, she proceeded very carefully; waiting until he had gotten hold of every block before letting go.

First, he stacked up the clay next to him, and every time she went to get replenishment from the cart, he pushed his piles to the farthest wall. Like that, they got the work over with fairly quickly. In the end, his legs and spine protested when he ascended the steps again. Oh, the brightness above the ground was blazing!

As he accustomed his eyes to it, he grew aware that Ranheb was still perched at the table while the girl was nowhere to be seen, so Ahkmen made his way outside. In the small hallway, he avoided running into her by a hair's breadth. By the looks of it, she was about to take a bowl outside. He observed how she deftly twisted herself through the curtain without having to set aside the pottery and followed her, slightly impressed. In front of the house, he almost collided with her again.

"Ah, do you think you could stop getting in the way every five steps?"

"Or – and I know this might sound crazy – you could simply watch where you're going." She put on a radiant smile which he knew it was only supposed to rile him further. So, he smiled back just as brightly, causing her to snort.

"Here," she held the bowl out to him, brownish water and a rag sloshing around inside, "Clean yourself up."

During all the work he indeed had forgotten how grimy and sweaty he was. Aside from that, there was still blood sticking to him. He put the ceramic on the ground, squatting down next to it. Neither the liquid nor the cloth was particularly inviting... The latter being full of old stains. Truth be told, he would rather drive an arrow into his eye than wash himself with that thing.

But she'd given him everything available to her. If his mother could see how ungratefully he was behaving, she would be ashamed of him. So, with a defeated sigh, the young man fished the rag out of the dish and started cleaning. He got ahead so agonizingly slow that he thought about simply pouring the water out over his head, but unfortunately it was much too little for that approach to be likely to lead to success. Besides, he rather doubted she would bring him more, like Tani always did.

For his standards, the result needed some getting used to, but at least he didn't look like a walking mud brick anymore. A warm tingle made its way from his forearm to his hand and pulled him from his cogitations. At his cat bath, the cut had started bleeding again and even the fibers of the cloth, which he hastily pressed down on it, could not stop the flow.

"Damn it."

The woman looked up from the pot of grain she was giving to the donkey.

"It does not stop," Seeking help, he faced her. A shadow of dissatisfaction flitted across her face.

"Press down harder."

"Guess what I am doing?" he mumbled, frustrated. "Do you not have bandages?"

He didn't get an answer to that and uncomprehendingly glanced up from his injury. The girl had crossed her arms and stared to the side with compressed lips. Ahkmen released a strained breath. What was her problem now? The extending silence grated on his nerves.

"I don't have many left," she finally ground out.

His hand stilled in its dabbing motion and he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. An answer like that, he had not expected ...

"But ... But if I go home like this," He took the rag from his arm, whereupon a steady blood flow made its way to his elbow, which he quickly tried to stop, "I am in _big_ trouble."

And that was the truth. If they saw him in this get-up, with all the scratches and cuts, he would be done for. Ahkmenrah could see the battle in her eyes: To give a stranger her last reserves or to let a guest bleed. Defeated, she scrunched up her face.

"Alright, fine. I'll get you one," she sighed. The boy exhaled in relief.

"Thank you."

She nodded, disappeared for a short time and then returned with a linen shred. As she handed it to him, he realized it was a torn garment, even darker than her dress and just as covered in stains. In short, it was the most unsuitable dressing he had ever laid eyes upon.

With his brows pushed together, he tucked the end of the bandage into the crook of his arm and wrapped it carefully around the cut. The pressure was a bit uncomfortable, but it was still better than spreading his blood everywhere. It wasn't easy to tie the loose end with only one hand, but it wasn't impossible either. Satisfied, he surveyed his handiwork, when the girl, again, had an objection.

"Are you ... Are you done washing?"

The boy looked down his body, but didn't spot any big smudges, so his eyes flitted to her, blankly.

"Yes ...?"

"And you're sure you won't get into trouble going home like _this?"_ She pointed at his face and he ran his fingers down his cheek.

"What-?"

"You're coated in blood. Looks like you murdered someone."

Distempered, he glanced back to where he'd left his cleaning utensils. That was only because he didn't have a mirror! While the girl took a couple of pots to the roof, he tried to solve his problem. Shortly after, he heard a huff that told him how bad he was doing this job.

"On your left cheek." She was leaning against the wall next to the entrance. "No, my left ... Further up ... Not there ... Oh, give it to me!"

Before he could protest, she reached for the cloth and ruggedly turned his chin, cleaning a spot under his eye which he would have never found with that description of hers. His eyebrows angrily gravitated towards each other, regarding her rough handling, but he kept his mouth shut and let her do it.

"There you go." Taking a step back, she examined his appearance top-to-bottom. Her eyes stopped at his kilt. "You may be able to get the dust out, but the blood's not very likely to come off."

The prince drew his lip between his teeth. Of course, he himself had never been expected to do the laundry, but as a child, he oftentimes had sneaked into the royal washhouse. Claiming the act of cleaning clothes was a pleasant (let alone a merry) task would have been the overstatement of the year.

Suddenly, a cold shiver run down his spine. He hadn't bestowed any consideration upon his bloodied attire! How was he supposed to enter the palace like this? Even at the servants' entrance they would stop him to ask questions. And if they so much as looked at him a bit too closely, his identity would be known. Despite the more than questionable experiences he'd been through today, he was not prepared to be locked away forever.

In his head blossomed the idea of just wearing the _shendyt_ inside out, but he had to cast it away almost immediately; the fabric was too thin and the blood had seeped through to the other side. A curse escaped his mouth over which even the gruffy dockworkers would blush, and he hastily clenched his teeth together when he remembered Nefari's presence. She looked askance at him.

"You are right, I cannot go home like this," He desperately tousled his hair as though he could make himself have a dazzling idea. And who would have thought, it worked. "We swap clothes!"

"Don't you think it'll prompt more questions if you come home in a dress?"

"Wha-? Not us! Your brother and-" He faltered when he saw the rise of her mouth's corners. His eyebrow started twitching. "You are doing that on purpose."

"Me? No, never," A full-grown grin stretched over her face. "I really don't want to be a stumbling block to your glorious plan, but do you honestly think Ranheb will give you one of his _shendyts?"_

"But he will get it back."

She looked at him warily before complying.

"Fine with me. Who am I to stand in your way?" The prince froze but then realized that she was only being sarcastic. "Come inside."

He really hoped she could convince her brother to lend the garment to him. Then again, she had coaxed _him_ into toiling away for three hours in a self-dug pit, after all. Even if she made it rain honey cakes, it wouldn't surprise him anymore. And she seemed to like the thought of having a hold of him with that. If he wanted his _shendyt_ back, he would have to come back. And then she could torment him with even more work.

She led him into the tiny hallway and up the stairs, where he looked about. His initial assumption was confirmed, this really was a bedroom... More or less. There was only a thin reed mat lying on the ground, a wooden chest standing next to it. The room's comfort was limited, not that there was space for any other pieces of furniture to begin with. On his left-hand side, a pathway allowed access to another room. In there, the girl went, but before he could follow her, she returned with a bundle in hand.

"Nefari?" her brother's voice echoed up from the floor below and cut her short. She huffed, irritated, and faced the staircase.

"What?"

"What are you doing up there?"

The woman wrenched her eyes shut and mumbled something that to him sounded like 'Isis help me'. He didn't deny that that brought him no small amount of gratification. Now she knew how he had felt the whole day.

"Huya is borrowing one of your _shendyts_." Turning toward the King's son again, she handed him a piece of linen. "You can change here."

"Are you mad?" Ranheb's upset voice resounded again. He seemed closer now. Quite possibly at the foot of the steps.

"Oh, quit that. I told you I got this."

She stomped down the stairs to continue their bickering and left Ahkmen on his own. He examined the fabric she had given him and realized that this tradeoff was the worst in his life. The linen itself was nowhere near good quality, and in many places it was almost worn through at that.

At the hem, the seam had come loose, causing the fibers to fray. The young man quickly untied his _shendyt_ , stepped out of it, and donned Ranheb's, bearing the abrasive fabric's scratching with a stoical face. He ignored the quiet voice that begged him to rip the abominable garment off his body immediately and set it on fire. His own kilt was folded and placed down upon the chest's lid, then he descended the stairs.

While walking past, he peered into the workshop where the noble donor of his current attire sat, just dashing a lump of clay with water. Thereupon, the muddy smell which he'd had in his nose all day unfolded in the stuffy air. Oh, the joy. He had missed it so much. The potter seemed to sense Ahkmenrah's eyes on him for he lifted his gaze and took in the other's appearance.

"You better bring it back, else-"

Ahkmen jutted his chin out.

"I will, don't worry."

Ranheb looked at him for a moment longer, distaste clear in his expression. Then, he again focused on the dirt between his hands, dismissing the younger man who had to swallow his anger as he stepped out into the yard. The girl wasn't there, though.

"Nefari?"

Bewildered, his eyes roamed about. This place really wasn't big enough for her to vanish. Where did she go?

"Here," her voice called from above, and shortly after, her head appeared beyond the beams that protruded from the house's exterior wall. A neat plait hung over her shoulder, and she seemed to have divested herself of their adventure's filth.

His gaze wandered from her to the feathery plumes of the fire she had ignited, and from there to the sun. It was approaching the horizon fast. Much as it pained him, it was time to say goodbye. Tragic. She grimaced when he let her in on his plans and came running down the stairs. Planting herself in front of him, she crossed her arms.

"Fine," she held up a finger in front of his nose. His eyes prickled when he concentrated on it. "But at first light tomorrow you better be standing before that door, got it?" Her hand gestured at the woodwork next to her. He inwardly shook his head at her ignorance. As if he had nothing else to do than to be available at her beck and call.

"I will come back when I have the time and not when you tell me to," he clarified. Her thoughts on this were chiseled deeper into her forehead than the reliefs in his study.

"You will cut and run and never return."

"I won't," he assured. The girl leaned in farther and gazed at him sternly, and the longer the silence stretched, the more distance Ahkmenrah wanted to get between them. This was reaching worrying levels.

"You have three days. If you don't come back by then, I'm going to find you and you will regret the day you were born!"

He fought against the rising corners of his mouth. This was optimism at its finest. The prince didn't doubt her words for one moment; she would certainly try to implement her threat. Not that she would make it very far. Even if she did manage to discover his identity, she could never hurdle the palace walls.

And someone like her wouldn't get through the gates, even without murderous intentions. But she didn't need to know that, so he confined himself to nodding and pushing the door open. When her hesitant voice called for him again, he paused and looked over his shoulder with a cocked eyebrow.

"Thanks, by the way ... for ... uhm ... for your help."

The words came out so strained, she would bust her throat if she wasn't careful. Then again, they were genuine, maybe he should ignore the rest.

"I really cannot say I had much fun," he replied. "But I suppose I could have spent the day in a more unproductive manner."

Her twitching jaw revealed her desire to answer, but she held her tongue. Satisfied with _finally_ having the last word, he bowed his head.

"Goodbye."

"Three days. Don't forget the _shendyt_ ," she warned, closing the small gate. The young man groaned, massaging his temple. That girl was the most impertinent, disrespectful person he had ever met! He would probably go gray ten years earlier now. If he got through his training without falling onto his own _khopesh_ , he could really be proud of himself.

"Strange boy..." The sudden murmur beyond the brittle wood surprised him, causing him to huff. Apparently, she had also taken stock of the day.

"You do realize that I can hear you?"

Silence. Then, a quiet laugh and fading shuffling. He shook his head, getting under way.

Strange girl.


	5. Rumors and nightmares

**Guess who's not dead :D Happy (belated) 2019.** **I hope you guys had a good start to the new year!**

 **~References~**

 **-Tjuy: A female term of endearment**

 **-Geb: Earth god**

 **-Shemu: Season of harvest (March to June)**

 **-Heriu-Renpet: Five additional days the Egyptians added to their calendar so their year would obtain a length of 365 days. During these holidays, they celebrated the births of Osiris, Horus, Seth, Isis, and Nephthys.**

 **-Ankh-udja-seneb: 'Life, prosperity, health' or 'May he live, be prosperous and healthy'. A phrase used when referring to the Pharaoh.**

 **Also, there will be mentioned a Temple of Isis in this chapter. Please don't listen to me on that one. According to present knowledge, there was no temple dedicated to Isis in Thebes.**

* * *

Squeezing through _Waset's_ busy streets with a basket of dirty laundry and a jug full of washing lye in one's arms is an imaginably difficult undertaking. It was something Nefari experienced the day after, when she was on her way to her friend Ineni. She and her husband, Heru, had a small well in their yard which benefitted them all immensely during washday.

This way, they didn't have to crouch next to the canals – let alone the river – for hours. It would happen, from time to time, that some doomed soul would encounter a hippopotamus or a crocodile in the bank's undergrowth... Or one simply fell into the water and was carried away by the current. Grief threatened to suffocate her as she thought about falling in and trying to escape a watery grave while her strength slowly faded.

The way _he_ had ...

 _No! Stop thinking about that!_

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Her thought's murky brew dripped off and cleared her vision, revealing a house in front of her; Heru's home. It was similar to the pottery shop. There was an equally bleached door and a whitewashed outer wall, but it was larger. And Heru, working in one of the city's biggest ropeyards, could even afford real repairs. Unlike Ranheb, who simply applied patches of clay to the crumbling spots of their veneer.

Nefari let herself in. When the geese in their enclosure heard the creaking of the gate's hinges, they began honking full-throatedly. There was no way someone could get in unseen. Or unheard for that matter.

Next to the well, she spotted Ineni and her daughter, Cheperankh. The child sat on her mother's lap, who was attaching a hair clip in one of the girl's locks. The four-year-old did exactly the same to the straw hair of her doll. They both raised their heads and looked over at the newcomer.

"Good morning!" The potter called over the geese's racket as she pushed the door shut with her back.

"Nefari!"

Cheperankh struggled out of Ineni's grasp, set her doll to the ground, and ran over to the woman, extending her short arms for the lye pitcher.

"Let me help."

Smiling, the black-haired guest squatted down to hand the vessel to the four-year-old.

„Thank you, _Tjuy_."

Hugging her burden close to her tiny form, Cheperankh headed over to the well and put the jug down next to it.

"How are you?" Ineni questioned, moving closer to her friend.

"Well, Ranheb got into a fight and now I'm going to have to spend the morning washing the blood out of his tunic. Apart from that: great."

The young mother had not yet answered when the house's front door was torn open and a small tanned bolt came dashing out.

"Hi Nefari! Bye Nefari!" Ramose called out mid-run, inducing the flabbergasted woman to lift a hand in greeting. He almost made it to the gate, but his mother stopped him.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait! Where are you off to?"

Annoyed, the six-year-old halted in his tracks, hand frozen in its reaching for the door handle.

"Swimming."

"Where's Nikhem?"

In that exact moment, another little boy came running out of the house, his attention completely captivated by the carved, wooden lion toy in his grip. At first, he sat down next to Nefari absentmindedly, but as soon as he realized that she wasn't his mother he changed places. Ramose pointed at his brother in an exaggerated gesture.

"Did you feed the geese?"

"Ye-hes."

The potter looked over to the fowl which, by now, were occupied with squabbling over the last grains of their meal.

"Alright," Ineni nodded. "But stay in the shallows, you hear?"

"Yes, Mama," Ramose retorted, rolling his eyes. He'd probably had his fair share of these admonitions. His mother was not even able to tell him to enjoy himself, for the gate clapped shut long before she was done speaking. Sighing, she shook her head over her oldest son.

Nefari told her friend everything about Ranheb's brawl while they filled up the washing trough. The cool water that trickled down her arms felt divine. Already, the temperature had risen so high one could only bear it in the realm of shades.

She had placed the self-mixed lye between her and Ineni when the silence was disrupted by a loud voice. Considering the penetrating pitch, it could only be one person. Indeed, she had not yet finished the thought when the gate opened anew, and the geese resumed their earsplitting clamor.

In scurried Tiwa, and she, too, brought her dirty laundry with her. A hastily tied knot held her fanciful dress and her wig sat a bit askew on her head, obviously due to her excitement.

"Good morning," the potter smirked while the seamstress struggled for enough breath to tell the story that was clearly already at the tip of her tongue.

"You won't believe what I've been told!" she panted, eyes wide open, sitting down between her friends so fast, Nefari didn't even see her feet touching the ground. The laundry basket sat neglected to her right, where it would for sure stay until she had shared every aspect of her gossip.

"What happened?" The young mother raised her eyebrows, unfurled her dirty clothes in the trough and watched as the fibers became saturated with water.

"It's unbelievable, Ineni, a sensation!" In a dash of drama, her hands flailed through the air and her eyes almost popped out of her head, causing Nefari to wrinkle her forehead while she dipped her own laundry into the basin. She removed the air that had been caught between fabric and water, now forming landscapes of mountains and valleys.

"Do you remember my neighbor, Keti?" the seamstress asked after a break that was by far too long for this upheaval, keeping her friends in suspense.

"The old woman?" A time-withered face appeared before the potter's mind's eye.

"The very one. She told me that the Temple of Isis is supposed to be repaired! Isn't that great?!" With sparkling eyes and a grin that stretched from one ear to the other, she awaited her friends' reactions. Nefari's hands stopped their soaking of Ranheb's tunic.

The temple was noticeably decaying and, being only frequented by a few people, nobody did a thing to prevent it. A long time ago, so long in fact her memories barely reached back to it, she had often visited it with her mother. They'd always brought some bread and if the business allowed it even the rare jug of wine. It had been a special place to the young girl, though, even back then, the cult site had long lost its luster.

But then the fever had come, short and severe. Overnight, her mother hadn't had been able to leave her sleeping mat anymore. She hadn't even had enough strength to lift her head. Three days later, Osiris had gotten hold of her. As a little four-year-old, Nefari, of course, hadn't understood as her father had crouched next to her mother's lifeless body, her cold, white hand pressed to his lips, remaining silent for hours. The only solace had been found in the fact that her father could afford a modest embalmment, a wooden sarcophagus, the required amulets, and a book of the dead. A humble assemblage, but it was enough to grant her safe passage through the _Duat_.

From that day, life had become harder. Her father still had to work in the pottery shop all day and since he never remarried, he additionally had to care for the home and his children. After all, Ranheb himself had only been seven years of age at the time. Nefari remembered doing her chores as best as she could and wholly taking care of the household as she grew older.

In spite of it all she had tried to continue her visits to the holy place; not just because of her reverence towards the goddess, but in remembrance of her mother. However, after everything that had happened lately, with all the work she had to do, she sometimes wasn't able to go there for months on end. Learning that someone in the palace had finally come to their senses; that the temple's former glory would be restored was weirdly liberating. An ineffable burden was lifted from her heart and a tiny smile blossomed on her lips.

"That _is_ great!" she exclaimed, looking over to Tiwa who still hadn't touched her laundry. "When are the works supposed to begin?"

"As soon as possible I guess." The bubbly woman seemed to enjoy Nefari's curiosity immensely.

"I really don't want to be a killjoy, but Keti is not the most reliable source of information," Ineni interjected, having been listening to the story patiently and now glanced at the potter.

Her doubts were reasonable. Last week, Tiwa had told them how her neighbor was convinced that her lentil stew was talking to her. How she knew? Well, the old woman had answered her bowl loud and clear. And her whimsicality didn't end there: on some days, she obviously avoided the sound 'n' and word on the street was that she sometimes walked around with her arm stretched far above her head. Was the temple's remediation nothing more than the figment of a deranged woman in the end?

Brooding, the girl attended to a bloodstain on the tunic's sleeve. With both hands, she formed a fold which the blot disappeared into and scrubbed the linen hard. That didn't get her anywhere, the smudge still gleamed proudly.

"She can be a bit quirky from time to time," Tiwa admitted, her own laundry returning to mind. Reaching for the top garment in her pile, one of her colorful dresses, she extended her hand for the lye with which Nefari momentarily tried getting at the stubborn stain. "But give me one example of her being wrong."

Ineni didn't have to ponder for long.

"This one time she thought sand would make a good hair restorer."

"Well, firstly, no one was able to disprove that hypothesis and secondly-"

"There's nothing else for it but to wait for an official announcement," Nefari interrupted before their bickering broadened into a full-grown argument. After that, they worked through their clothes without any more major discussions, but that didn't mean they weren't talking at all. Tiwa had an enormous bunch of other tattle in store which was impressive, considering they had just seen each other last week. To gather such an amount of information was a feat, even for her.

The potter did toss in a few words here and there, but altogether she was rather absent-minded. The whole morning, the thoughts in the back of her head circled around if Keti would be proven right. She opted to try and get her work done faster in the future so she could stop by the temple once again.

Every time the women deemed a piece of clothing clean enough, they laid it out to dry on reed mats in the sun. The water evaporated so quickly, they could stow it away almost immediately. The endless crouching had cramped her back and hurt her limbs when Nefari finally pulled the last garment from her basket. Surprisingly, it was a dirtied _shendyt,_ sporting a bloodied trail on its right side. She hesitated. How had that gotten into her laundry? She certainly didn't intend to wash it for Huya, that was something he could do on his own! Then again, his panic-stricken reaction after realizing how dirty he had gotten indicated that there was no opportunity for him to clean the suspicious piece of clothing at home ...

Annoyed, she threw the kilt into the water and rubbed her fingers raw by trying to get the blood out of the fabric. _Again!_ Why were all the people she knew so prone to injuries? More important: Why on Geb's earth was she their laundress?

The girl had her doubts Huya would really come back after three days. She wasn't sure if one plain _shendyt_ was enough of a leverage. Also, her hopes of realizing her threat and being able to find him in a large city such as _Waset_ were pretty low, especially if he didn't want to be found. In the end, all that tied him to returning was his promise and who could say what that was worth?

To not lose her mind over this, she resolved to believe in his morals until last. Even if he hadn't been on his most affable behavior, with his – admittedly enforced – help, he had at least shown a tinge of decency. On that, she had to rely. Maybe, just maybe, she had blindsided him from the very start with her brisk demeanor. Seeing that she got what she wanted, she wouldn't take back a word she said, but she possibly had too quickly gone on the offensive... The woman shook her head. If you were too sentimental, others would take advantage of it as they had demonstrated on numerous occasions. She couldn't afford that.

His garment, at least, was easier to clean than Ranheb's. The fibers were smoother. Regardless of that, she had to be careful not to roughen the fine linen too much with her resolute scrubbing. She was too proud to return a holey, worn through kilt. It only took her a short while to free the fabric from all the dirt. Unfortunately, she didn't completely get rid of the bloodstain. Still, the piece contrasted strongly with her own laundry. Had it been bleached?

They had run low on lye when Tiwa finally splayed out her husband's last tunic to dry. Together, they then scooped the water out of the basin and did a quick sweep so the heat wouldn't cause the grime to crust, possibly impeding the next laundry day.

When all clothes were lying clean and dry in their designated baskets, Nikhem made it his business to coax Nefari into staying for dinner. Tiwa took her leave the moment the work was done, because she herself had to prepare the meal for her mother and husband.

Denying the boy's request was hard. Especially when he looked at her with those large dark eyes, pouting. But it was no use, she too had to get back home. Not only to save Ranheb from starvation, but because she still had a whole lot of chores waiting for her. The days were simply too short for all the work that had to be done. She bid goodbye to the family, heavy-heartedly ignored Nikhem's whining, and started back, using every shade that drew patterns on the dusty road to cool off. It was as hot as in an oven!

No surprise there. It was the last month of _shemu_. The year was drawing to a close, entailing the annual flood of the river. Soon, the fields along its banks would be covered in fertile, black silt. The upside with that were the _Heriu-Renpet._ The additional days. Holidays.

The downside? Taxes.

The hole Huya had ripped into their budget would be nearly impossible to stitch without his reparation until the end of the year. Doubt again began gnawing at her innards when she remembered her resolution to think positive and forced herself to do exactly that.

As she arrived in the pottery shop, she distributed the freshly washed clothes between her own crate and that of her brother, relieved to finally spend some time inside the cool house. Said brother could now be found sitting in the workshop, handling a cup. He gave her a concentrated nod when he noticed her standing by the entry.

His eye had changed color overnight. Instead of violet, the bruise was now mostly blue. His face, while still swollen, was now at least partially starting to reveal his original features. The most problems were still caused by his ribs, though. They were bruised if not cracked. Treatment from a healer wouldn't have been a bad idea, but that was a luxury they couldn't afford.

Without mulling over it for too long, she sat down next to him, reached for one of the bowls he had already finished, and for a thin wooden wedge. She told Ranheb of the rumor regarding the temple of Isis while she pressed shapes and patterns into the drying clay. The idea pleased him, but as expected he too would only believe it when he saw it. After that, they remained silent and focused on their work. Kiy joined them for a while, but neither of them had the time to play with her. After rubbing her head against the girl's back, she wandered off.

Evening had set by the time the siblings stowed away their handiwork. They ate some bread and vegetables on the roof while watching Ra's barque disappear behind the horizon, where the god would start his nightly journey through the underworld.

Later, when Nefari curled up on her mat after a quick prayer, she was so exhausted that she drifted off as soon as she closed her eyes. She dreamed of tax collectors with arms covered in wooden splinters who were washing blood out of _shendyts_ , so she herself could go to the temple to pray. It was in the middle of the night, when a muffled whimper woke her up. Drugged with sleep, her initiate thought was of Nikhem who wanted her to stay for dinner. After a while, however, she realized that the voice was too deep for a child.

Sitting up, she tried to will her eyes to see in the dark. When she blinked into Ranheb's room, though, all she could catch sight of was a black blotch that was restlessly tossing and turning. Worried, she shuffled over and looked down upon her brother. In the pallid moonlight that streamed through the window, she could just about discern his contorted face which he frantically threw around, trails of tears obvious on his cheeks. Nefari squatted down, reached out, and stopped it gently.

"Ranheb," she spoke quietly into the darkness. Her thumbs wiped away the wetness that coated his skin. His dream still held him prisoner. "Ranheb."

Gasping for air, he jerked up, tearing his eyes open. His chest was heaving rapidly while he tried to understand what was happening, his gaze wild.

"Nefari."

"You were having a nightmare," she whispered, stroking his sweaty forehead. The young man took a deep breath and nodded while propping himself onto his elbows.

"Did I wake you?" There was unmistakable hoarseness in his voice. The girl shook her head and took his hand into her own.

"Are you alright?"

He stared past her face into nothing, then he brought her back into focus and sat up.

"I saw him," he murmured absently. "He was floating in the water."

"Father?" she asked softly. Even after all those months, it wasn't a good idea to mention him in Ranheb's presence. But instead of being met with suppressed anger or self-destruction, as was so often the case these days, he just cloaked himself in silence, letting his head hang. She didn't push him into telling her and only gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

"I ... I was too late. He'd already fallen in," he muttered, but went on a bit louder. "I was running towards the bank and tried to pull him out. I really tried, Nefari, I swear! But I wasn't strong enough..." Despite all efforts, a gulped back sob managed to escape his throat. The potter let go of his hand to pull him into an embrace. He sat unmoving and stiff in her arms at first, but apparently he desperately needed consolation because before long, his own limbs snaked around her waist, clutching to her as if his life depended on it.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," he bitterly muttered into her shoulder.

"No, Ranheb. Look at me." Fighting his strong grip, she distanced herself from him and held him at his upper arms. Only with great reluctance did he meet her eyes. The girl was shaken by how young he suddenly looked. "It's not your fault. It was an accident, you hear?" Her brother shook his head, huffing humorlessly.

"If I hadn't been so drunk that day, I could've gone fetching the clay. _I_ know how to swim."

"'What-ifs' aren't helping anybody. You have to stop tormenting yourself, otherwise you'll never be able to leave it behind."

"But he's dead!" he snapped, his voice too loud for the tranquility of the night. "How am I supposed to leave that behind?!"

Again, she hugged him tight, not letting go for a long time. Actually, she was convinced he'd fallen asleep in that position, but then she felt the vibration of his larynx on her shoulder.

"How are you doing this? How do you manage the house, the animals, and _me_ at the same time?"

"It's not that hard," she replied, a small smile stretching her lips. "I really only have to control you; the rest just follows."

At that, a laugh bubbled up his throat. A real, good-natured laugh. She lingered a moment longer at his side, relieved that his inner storm was settling. Then, the girl rose and padded back to her own sleeping mat.

"Hey, Nefari?" his voice stopped her right in the doorway. She turned back to the sight of him rolling over, pushing an arm under his head. "Thanks."

Smiling, she nodded, lying down herself and letting sleep catch her for the second time in this night.

* * *

Out of all unpleasant feelings Nefari had experienced in her life, a cat's paw in the eye while waking up was one of the worst. Kiy had taken up residence on the woman's chest, her big blue eyes gleaming lopsided in front of her face.

"Did you ever stop to think that you're a pain in the neck?" she grumbled, voice still laced with sleep, and blinked her eyes open. The cat mewed innocently and nibbled at the outstretched hand the girl tried to pet her with. "Why don't you ever wake up Ranheb first?"

Yawning, she struggled to her feet, lifting the cat onto her arms and stroking it. A look into the adjoined room revealed her brother's vacant sleeping place. Huh... The feline seemingly was one step ahead of her. Speaking of which, now it began fidgeting so she sat it back to the ground. Kiy mewed again and jumped down the stairs in two great leaps. In the meantime, Nefari knelt in front of her cloth trunk next to the wall and took her dress as well as her mother's comb out of it. It was made of wood and adorned with carvings, but unfortunately her stubborn hair had already broken a few teeth out.

She stripped out of her nightgown, folded it, and put it down on her mat before tying herself into her dress. Following this, she raked the comb through her black tresses and plaited them into a quick braid, which she secured with her trusty leather string. Then, she rummaged through the chest again. This time, she pulled out a small jar of kohl, the stick to apply it with, and a tarnished handheld mirror. It also had been passed down to her by her mother and back in the days when one had been able to actually detect their reflection properly, it had been magnificent for sure. The girl dipped the stick into the tint and raised the mirror in front of her face, carefully outlining her eyes. Satisfied with the outcome, she stored the utensils away.

On her way out, she didn't run into Ranheb in the workshop, nor in the pantry, nor in the yard. Unease spread around her heart, but, as things turned out, her worries were unsubstantiated in this instance. He called her name from the roof, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. She went for the water pitcher next to the door and washed her face, arms, feet and neck before climbing up the stairs. Dust immediately began sticking to her soles again, as she glumly had to realize.

"What're you doing?"

On the last step she spotted him, crouching in front of her hearth.

"Making breakfast," he explained and faced her with a plate of freshly baked bread.

"How come?"

"Well …" He examined his nails which he couldn't fully clean the mud from anymore, despite of rigorous scrubbing. "I haven't really acted like a big brother lately. I should be taking care of you and not the other way round."

The woman reassuringly squeezed his arm, calming his troubled features before she ripped a piece from the bread and put it into her mouth. Unfortunately, this wonderful calm didn't last for long. A sudden rumbling at the gate almost took it off its hinges, causing her to jerk up. Ranheb reacted first, jumped to his feet, and bolted down the stairs. His sister was in hot pursuit.

"Who's there?" he asked loud and clear and with a firmness in his voice, Nefari could have never mustered in this moment.

"The first tax collector's guard! In the name of the Pharaoh – _ankh-udja-seneb -_ open this door!"

The siblings stared at each other, horrified. What was the meaning of this? The young woman narrowed her eyes accusingly. Had her brother gotten himself in hot water again? He raised his hands, shaking his head fiercely, a concerned look on his face. This did not make the girl feel better. Outside, the guard became impatient.

"Open the door or I will!"

* * *

 **Sooo, this chapter is a little on the short side and completely Ahk-less, but I promise, next time he will be featured all the more :)**


	6. All that glistens is not gold

**Greetings, my fellow earthlings and, again, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story. You're making my day. All my days, actually :D**

 **~References~**

 **-Ipet-Sut: Karnak temple complex in Luxor. Expanded over the millennia, it was dedicated to several gods, e. g. Amun, Khonsu, Ptah, Montu, and Mut and to this day is still the biggest temple complex in Egypt.**

 **-Chery-nus: Regalia Carrier (i. e. the guy who's lugging around Merenkahre's fancy stuff).**

 **-Sistrum: Musical instrument, played like a rattle.**

 **That being said, two more things for a better understanding:**

 **The ancient Egyptians did deploy honey for wound healing which indeed worked due to its anti-inflammatory properties. They also drank beer rather than water for the simple reason that water was often filthy and caused people to fall ill. On a side note, their beer was much weaker than ours today and even children drank it.**

* * *

As it turned out, it was possible to grind away in a pottery shop for five hours, sprint home, and then train with the soldiers to the point of exhaustion.

Possible, yes.

But not advisable in the slightest.

Even two days after the fiasco, every muscle in Ahkmenrah's body jibbed vehemently at being used. Nobody had noticed the hesitance in his movements yesterday since he had spent most of the time in his study with Nahim, internalizing what should have been acquired the day before. He had definitely learned his lesson.

Concerning the slash in his forearm, he had gone to see Henet-Setep, the royal physician. Since he had done so after combat training, the man hadn't posed any questions regarding the origin of the wound. He'd merely cleaned it, applied some honey, protected it with a few spells, and then bandaged it anew.

Now he was lying in bed, legs entangled in the thin linen sheets that he had kicked down over the course of the night, reluctantly registering the breaking day. Ra hadn't risen yet, but the faint light of dawn that was sneaking past the fabric covered reed mats in front of the windows disclosed Tem's arrival in approximately half an hour. Groaning, he rolled over, feeling for the sheets with an arm that was much too short.

With closed eyes, he mulled over what the day had in store for him. After the morning prayers, his father would hold court in the throne room and the prince's presence would be required. Since the tribunals were so much more interesting than his lessons with Nahim, he fervently looked forward to them. The afternoon teachings in Phoenician were a further pinnacle.

In his mind, a very pervasive, very potter-like voice immediately scolded him for not making any plans to clear his debts. How was he supposed to sneak into the city today though? There was no way he had enough time for that. Besides, she would only make him toil to complete exhaustion and he wasn't even able to lift his arms now.

Fantastic, he was wide awake now. Grumbling, he opened his eyes. What should he do about the girl? That decision was definitely too extensive to make this early in the morning...

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed a movement, which, as he realized upon closer inspection, originated from his dog, Jahi. He had dragged his mat almost entirely underneath the bed. His white paws were twitching in a rapid pattern.

Amused, Ahkmen watched the spectacle for a while, before he decided he had wasted enough time by lounging around idly. He rolled off his mattress, almost hitting his forehead on the headrest in the process. With a loud yawn, he stretched his shoulders and winced when the pain in his muscles exacted its vengeance. Confident strides carried him down the dais on which his bed was located. His bare feet thudded over the smooth, polished granite floor to his reception room, where a sole oil lamp was flickering. During the day, they made sure the flame kept on burning. The wick was being cropped and he could swear that even at night a servant saw to it.

The young man reached for one of the wooden picks next to the lamp and dunked it into the oil. He lit it and started a triumphal procession through his bedroom, dressing room, and his bathroom where he ignited every lamp and brazier he came across.

Light and shadows chased each other over the papyrus sedges engraved in the washroom walls, flitting past the colorfully painted pillars supporting the ceiling. Servants had already filled the bathing pool to the brim, the steaming water was now awaiting him, smooth as a mirror. He took the bandage off his forearm, inspecting his most recent injury. The wound was scabbed over and the fabric that had rested upon it was free from fresh blood. Further treatment seemed unnecessary.

Due to his early rising, he had some time to spare and he shamelessly intended to use it for a thorough bath. Untying his kilt and stepping out of it, he descended into the basin and instantaneously began to melt away. The warmth worked wonders for his tormented muscles. Head reclined and arms resting on top of the pool's edge comfortably, he gazed up to the blue, star-studded ceiling, indulging himself in fabulous silence that was only broken by soft lapping when he moved.

Later, he spread a generous amount of scented oil over his skin, relishing the fragrance of myrrh, cardamom, and cinnamon. A seldomly worn, green patterned tunic had already been laid out for him in his dressing room and he slipped it over his head. Maybe he should make rising early a habit. The morning was significantly more relaxed without the half-dozen servants buzzing around him. In the midst of that consideration, he noticed Jahi standing up, trotting over to the reception room's door, and sitting down in front of it. The young man sighed; this behavior was an unmistakable signal for Tem's arrival. Sure enough, despite him not hearing the outer cedar wood doors, the shuffling of sandals over stone was carried into the dressing chamber with ease. With deliberation carefully refined over the years, the servant opened the door, sticking his shaven head in.

"My prince, it is ... - Oh, you have already risen."

The King's son stepped into his bedroom, attention fixed on donning his golden bracers.

"Good morning." He didn't bother smiling at the man, for it brought no positive reaction out of him anyway. As usual, the servant looked like he was about to fall asleep while standing, which was incidentally the only facial expression he was capable of displaying. Although… no, that was not quite right. Ahkmenrah had seen him smile once, in his seventh year of age, but he couldn't recall the cause for this break in character anymore.

"May I roll up the mats?" he asked as monotonously as every day. The boy lowered his eyelids. In all his life, the answer to that had remained the same.

"Please." He indicated at the long hook propped against the wall near a corner. Tem scuffed there, clasped his gaunt fingers around the staff, and carried it up the steps to the bed to get better access to the windows. As much as the prince loved watching the epitome of exuberance joining loops and hooks, he was awfully hungry and the arrival of food distracted him.

Tani, two nameless women, and a boy had begun serving breakfast in the reception room. They talked quietly among themselves, giggling occasionally, while adjusting the dishes. The boy placed a cup in front of the finest chair which they had shifted to the other side of the table, so Ahkmen could look out over the balcony during his meal.

This procedure dated quite a few years back, when even as a child he had taken his table setting to migrate with it so he could admire the view. His nursemaid, Teryt, had always laughed at the mannerism, but sat with him nonetheless. The memory stretched his mouth into a smile. He should really pay her a visit once more...

As if moving his facial muscles had betrayed his presence, the talking girl turned her head in his direction and immediately lowered it. The others, confused by the sudden stop in her story, followed her example, causing a sepulchral silence to spread throughout the room.

"Good morning," he offered, observing them. No one dared to answer. "I didn't mean to interrupt you ..." The little storyteller was wringing her hands by now. She peered through her lashes timidly, but then settled for gazing at her feet. They always turned their eyes down instantly. Did anybody really know what he looked like? Anybody at all?

Frustrated, he sat down at the table, leaning to the side when Tani situated the water bowl in front of him and then dipping his hands into it. Since there wasn't an opportunity for them to get dirty since his bath, though, it was a short endeavor. As he filled his plate with bread, cheese, grapes, and figs the servants around him busied themselves with other chores. Good. He didn't like to be watched with rapt attention when he was eating. Absorbed in his thoughts, he gazed at the deep blue sky. Only a tiny sliver of pink peeked over the mountains.

He couldn't say with certainty how long he'd been sitting there for, but after a while voices arose in the antechamber outside. A tail-wagging Jahi came dashing out of his bedroom, just as the high entry doors flew open to reveal a grinning Bek and two agitated guards in the background. The boy strutted into the room and had the doors closed by the servants.

The little storyteller secretly darted an admiring glance at him which he caught, reciprocating it with a wink. Her head shot down in an instant, blazing red, and she stared at the gold-plated door handle as if it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Smugly, Bek's mouth stretched even further, then the man devoted his attention to his visit's original cause.

"Good morning, your princiness!" He caught the joyful panting dog that scurried around his legs, hands tousling through the short, bicolored fur. Ahkmenrah smiled to himself over his friend's new word creation.

"I am so glad you are back. I almost forgot how you look like in the last twelve hours."

"I know, I couldn't commit this injustice to you."

Laughing quietly, the prince let his eyes roam over the figs on his plate before he took one and bit into it. The newcomer dipped his fingers into the washing bowl and then shook his hands, causing a short rain to fall upon Ahkmen's arm. Afterwards, he pulled an empty plate in front of him and shoveled everything his fingers could reach onto it.

"Oh yes, where are my manners? Please, help yourself!"

"Ahkmenrah, my friend, you are a man of honor," Bek mumbled past the quail's drumstick he had first put between his teeth. A bizarre food to choose for breakfast. The prince wagged his head over the quirks of his visitor and raised a brow when he also availed himself of the beer jug. Then, a thought struck him.

"Is your father going to be present during the tribunals today?"

His opposite rocked his head from side to side, estimating.

"The physician is of the opinion that he should stay in bed, because – and those are my words, mind you – it is a _fucking stupid_ idea to shift such a recent bone fracture so much. But you know him, he would even drag himself before your father with no legs at all."

"He is going to kill himself, continuing like that."

"Old fool," the boy consented, munching. The old fool's real name was Sentemsu and he was Merenkahre's first advisor. And of the fact that Bek was his son and had an impeccable upbringing for all intents and purposes, any table neighbor would be unaware right now. Maybe that was due to his military training; to all the hours he spent with the other soldiers. They weren't exactly known for being the most sociable.

Save for the progress of Sentemsu's broken leg since his fall down the stairs, there were little news. Bek's younger brother Mahu excelled in his lessons and was often praised by his tutors. About his mother, he didn't say a word, but his friend was used to it and didn't ask about her either.

With a partner that was honestly interested in conversation, time suddenly went by _too_ fast. The sun emerged over the balustrade, coating everything it touched with gold. The little boy and the storyteller that was trying to become invisible with all her might had started sweeping the floor. It was Tem who reminded the two friends of the advanced time, more or less dragging Ahkmen out of his chair for he had to get to the chapel to pray.

So, on that note, they left the table behind, food considerably decreased in quantity due to Bek's help. In the antechamber between the still sullen looking guards, they made their farewells and parted company. The hallways Ahkmenrah hurried through were buzzing with activity like a bee hive. Whoever encountered the prince stopped in their tracks and lowered their head, anxious to remain inert until he had gone past.

He reached the incense-scented sanctuary before his brother, just in time with the onset of the priests' chants. The royal couple never joined their children in prayer. To this end, they always betook themselves to the temple complex of _Ipet-Sut._

Kahmunrah arrived too late, he himself being the only person that didn't take offense in it. With all the self-assuredness of a crown prince he traversed the room, ignoring the priests' disapproving glances to stand right beside is favorite target for teasing for the last 18 years. The brothers paid one another no heed during the entire half-hour that they stood there for, both reciting their prayers for themselves.

When they had ended, Kah turned around and stormed off without speaking a single word. The siblings had never gotten along well. Maybe it was because of the nine-year age disparity between them; maybe it was predestined by the gods. His brother, anyway, begrudged him even the dirt on his shoes and it had been that way as long as the younger prince could remember. Besides, too much had occurred, too much time had passed to keep troubling his heart with it.

* * *

Restless chatter buzzed around Ahkmenrah's ears as he set foot into the throne room. The large hall accommodated a great many gentry members, clad in elaborate attire and straining their necks under the weight of lavish wigs. While he walked up to his brother, countless pairs of eyes roamed over him; trying to crack him open to draw gossip from his shattered parts. He endured the examination stone-faced, even being able to suppress an eye-roll as two girls not far from him tried to get his attention with ostentatious whispering and tittering.

Underneath the skylight, a small, rectangular lake of sunbeams was forming. Eventually, it would grow bigger until it drowned everyone unfortunate enough to stand in it in heat. Much to his relief, though, the dais he had settled on was spanned by a canopy. His piece of driftwood in the sun's flood. Sentemsu stood – as Bek had predicted – behind the gold-crested chair; left leg splinted, heavily relying on a walking cane, jaws grinding intensely. Still, he held his head high.

The girls, their subject of conversation meanwhile broadening to include the prince's facial aesthetics, abruptly fell silent, as did every other voice in the room. Ahkmen didn't really need to lift his head in order to ascertain the cause of the sudden silence. He did it anyway. Two guards opened the massive doors on the far end of the hall. All those present tried to surpass each other in the bowing of their heads. It was a daily occurrence, everybody wanting to make an exceptionally positive impression.

In walked a proper procession with the high priest of Amun in the lead, wrapped up in his leopard skin. His head was covered by a golden cap, the sun's reflection on it was downright blinding. He was trailed by the high priest of Maat, both absorbed in ritualistic chanting. Behind them followed the herald, being as full of himself as usual. Then, finally, Merenkahre made his way through the crowd, crook and flail firmly in hand and double crown high on his head. His presence almost seemed to quiet the room further, as if he soaked up every last noise.

Alongside him walked his wife, Shepseheret. Her dress was radiant in a deep shade of blue, and her face was painted to perfection. While the priests lined up next to the throne, the herald proclaimed the King's titles. With Ahkmenrah hearing them so often, he now caught himself reciting them in his head.

"Good morning, mother," he murmured past his brother as she took her place at his right, next to the golden chair, causing the corners of Kahmunrah's mouth to sink even further – if that was possible. Shepseheret's face, however, lit up without her having to move a single muscle. She gave her sons an impalpable nod and Kah's features lost their harshness. Meanwhile, the _chery-nus_ came forth to receive the royal insignia from the Pharaoh, whereupon he sat down. The people in front of the throne now lifted their heads and relaxed their posture.

And thus, the trials began. The early ones presented themselves as rather uncomplicated. For a long time, the most interesting case was that of a carpenter who hadn't been paid for his work but then a woman and her son stepped before the King. They were cultivating a couple of fields outside the city and on their own admission had been waiting nearly one year until their matter had been attended to by a lower-level court.

The small family incriminated a scribe who supposedly had retained two sacks of grain during the last tax collection, to then falsify his records. Over the course of the hearing it became apparent that their accusations were indeed justified. Even worse: the judge at that time had been bribed to render a wrong verdict. The Pharaoh, without hesitation, removed the convicts from office, sentencing them to displace the sacks and cede each one in addition as compensation. An acknowledging murmur went through the crowd and Ahkmenrah also nodded in approval. His older brother, meanwhile, scrunched up his nose.

"Much too lenient." A badly suppressed scoff escaped his throat, whereupon their father faced him, adamant sternness in his eyes.

"Do not mistake mercilessness for justice, my son." It was strange, hearing his usually powerful voice in such low volume.

"Oh, so you should rather put it on a par with laxity?" he asked sharply. Merenkahre's hand that had been laying flat on the armrest clenched into a fist.

"An unyielding heart poisons the mind," Ahkmenrah intercepted with one of the lines that had been floating around in his head since yesterday's lesson. Better to draw the attention to himself now than to have the situation between them escalate. His brother sharply inhaled, whereas the Pharaoh focused on the next defendant the guards brought in.

"Did your wet-nurse not teach you to not interfere when adults talk, _brother dear?"_

"I am merely trying to help," he quietly shot back.

"Well, isn't that oh so gracious? Nobody needs your help, pet child!"

"If your skull was not so incredibly thick you would have noticed that I just saved-"

"Will you stop bickering at once?! Start acting like the princes you are!" Shepseheret hissed through clenched teeth. The pleasant smile she sported thinned out and when she looked over to her sons, she had a dangerous glint in her eyes. Ahkmen shivered and bit his lower lip. From the edge of his vision he made out Kah staring at the tips of his sandals. Nobody, _nobody_ on this world wanted _their_ mother's wrath upon them.

The instances did not get more eventful as the morning passed on. Admittedly, the young man knew of the importance to listen to even the merest peasant but he found it admirable that his father wasn't falling asleep at it. Once again, he was relieved that he would never have to make these decisions. He couldn't even imagine his judgement ever matching his father's. Even Kah still had a lot to learn. A _whole_ lot ...

As time went on, Ahkmen realized he had been too optimistic when estimating the duration of the trials. Noon had long passed when they finally came to a close. The King's time in the throne room was far from over but the matters that followed didn't require that large of an audience. The room noticeably emptied, the air cleared up, ridding itself of the dozens of different perfumes. The crown prince stayed at their father's side, but his little brother now left for his lessons in Phoenician. His tutor, Reshu, was already awaiting him in front of his chambers. All the documents that piled in his arms set him strongly apart from Nahim, who'd never think of carrying his materials himself. Ahkmenrah traced Reshu's modesty back to the humbler circumstances he had had grown up in. Since the prince had a way with foreign languages and the Phoenician was an excellent teacher, the afternoon went by in a flash. At some point, Jahi trotted over to them, stretching out next to his friend's chair, enjoying the attention he was showered with. When the sky above the balcony turned red, Reshu gathered up his scrolls and bid goodbye.

He had barely left when Ahkmenrah, too, set off, Jahi close on his heels. His dog, completely beside himself with joy, sniffed at everything that got under his nose. The way he was behaving, one could think he'd never been allowed to leave the young prince's chambers ...

Their path took them to the stables. Even before entering, he clearly heard a calming voice giving instructions. Jahi cocked his ears, froze in his stance, and then dashed into the building without warning. Immediately after, a cacophony of barking, whinnying, and cursing rang out. The boy hurriedly followed his troublemaker and was greeted by chaos before he even set foot over the threshold.

First, he perceived his horse, Khem, prancing on the spot nervously. His eyes were rolled back so much the white in it was visible; his ears were set close to the head. He vehemently tried rearing up time and again and was only prevented from doing so by the stable hand who clung to the reins with all his might. The brown dog jumped around between their legs, obviously protected by the gods themselves, for if he hadn't been, the horse's quick hooves would have shattered his bones without fail.

"Jahi!"

Turning his head to his master, the canine hesitated for a moment, but then obviously deemed it wiser to pad back to him. It was now a simple task for the stable hand to bring the stallion under control. Only when Khem had calmed down did he look around, stiffening at once.

"My prince."

Ahkmen gave him a friendly nod and broke away from the pillar he had been standing next to. His horse softly huffed when he recognized him.

"How is his leg doing?"

Last week, Bek and he had been racing with their chariots, and a stone had been hurled up against the stallion's fetlock. He hadn't been able to tread correctly since that.

"Better," the boy reported. "We have anointed and bandaged the swelling every day and it has already receded a little."

The King's son gazed at the horse's wrapped up hind leg but could by no stretch of the imagination make out any sign of the mentioned progress under all these layers of fabric.

"I am very glad to hear that," he smiled, gently petting the animal's side.

"You shouldn't strain him yet, though," Khem's attendant continued, losing his focus in the brown fur. Then, his eyes widened and he hastily added: "If I may say so, your Highness."

Ahkmenrah smiled again.

"How long, do you reckon, is it going to take until he is fully recovered?"

"Maybe a week, two at most. I took him out of his bay and walked him up and down the aisle, he was barely having trouble with it."

"I see they are in safe keeping with you," the prince commended as he walked over to his second horse, Pasu, which neighed when he stroked him over the ridge of his nose. "What is your name?"

"Amunhemti, my prince," the boy replied, inclining his head.

"You are doing a great job, Amunhemti."

Learning that he was able to almost make someone burst with pride using only those words was an interesting thing. Amunhemti wasn't able to keep the giant grin from his face. Even when Ahkmen had thanked him and was about to leave the building, he could still see it from the corner of his eyes. Jahi had some difficulties parting with the horses, but it was now time for dinner.

When he stepped into the dining hall, the meal had already been dished up. Since day one, he had been keen on the architecture of the room. The ceiling was only supported by one wall and two opposing rows of columns, while the fourth side of the hall was completely open, permitting the glance to get lost in the extensive gardens. Insects were buzzing around the braziers that had been lit to counter the looming darkness and the quiet chirping of birds was overshadowed by the flutes, sistrums and drums the musicians were playing in the background. Ahkmenrah wasn't the first one to sit down at the table, but he wasn't the last one either. Shepseheret, Isetamun, and Kahmunrah were already seated, only his father was missing.

"... So, I told her to go change her clothes," his cousin finished a story Ahkmen had – thank the gods – missed out on, derogatory flicking her hand.

"Fascinating," he heard his brother say. The disinterest in his voice was so prominent, it was very surprising Iset was able to ignore it.

"She brought that upon herself. Why did she get the same dress made that I am wearing?"

"Uh-huh." Kah's twisted mouth revealed how close he was to wreaking havoc in her head and Ahkmen knew from experience how good he was at that. Shepseheret sipped from her wine, throwing her eldest son a pointed look that caused him to square his shoulders.

"And what does she do with her hair? You could think that-"

"Brother!" it escaped the crown prince as his eyes fell upon the very same. He almost sounded relieved and the whole room's attention concentrated on the newcomer.

"Good evening."

"Hello, Ahkmen."

His mother gave him a smile as he sat down next to her. Subsequently, a servant scurried to his side, filling his goblet with wine from which the young man took a long drink. It soothed his parched throat, and made Iset's ramblings a little bit more bearable. Jahi laid down next to his chair, head on his paws. Well, it was nice to see he knew how to behave after all.

"It looks like there have been rats nesting in her wig," the princess continued to scoff, not particularly impressed by her cousin's arrival. "She has been wearing it for _three days_ straight."

The young prince's next sip went down the wrong pipe and promptly took revenge in a coughing fit.

Three days.

Nefari's ultimatum ended tomorrow and he hadn't thought about how to handle the situation yet!

"Oh, Ahkmen!"

With concern, the Queen began patting his back and through the blur of tears he could see that his choking made a welcome change for his brother. Just when he was about to calm down, his father entered the room. Without his crown, he looked smaller. More human. Of course, that was an erroneous assumption. He, after all, didn't stop being a god only because he wasn't wearing his crown.

The King's eyes were tired but friendly and when he seated himself at the table's head, the family began their meal. Small Conversations slopped back and forth between roast and turnips, but the young man was too absorbed in his thoughts to listen to any of them.

As far as the potter went, he saw exactly three options. First: he didn't go back at all, let her think what she wanted and went on living. Second: he went to see her one last time to bring the resolutely demanded compensation. Third: he would visit her on a regular basis to work off his dept.

The simplest solution would obviously be driving the girl out of his mind. Someday, she would get over the loss of her beloved pots and working through her pain was probably easier if she didn't have to see his face again. At the same time, evading the consequences of his actions in such a manner had something cowardly to it. What was more, he would break his word. Even if it wasn't directly his fault, he was still the deciding reason for the destruction of her pottery.

Working for her would not only equal eternal damnation, his desire to carry out a simple potter's instructions as a prince was imaginably small. He would also face the problem of sneaking out into the city several times a week and sooner or later someone was bound to notice. Not to mention he didn't even have such an amount of free time.

So, if he neither wanted to break his word nor surrender his soul to her, there'd be no other choice than to steal out of the palace once more to pay her out. Tomorrow even, otherwise his pledge would be done for. Never before had he broken a promise and he sure as death wouldn't start doing so for some grimy little girl.

He'd have to rise early in order to bring Nefari the gold and be back before someone noticed his absence. Sighing, he compressed his lips; what an amazing prospect... His mother's voice breached the sarcastic remarks his mind kept battering him with and Ahkmenrah blinked at his plate. Tiny shreds of bread were strewn about it, even now his hands were still busying themselves with tearing. Dropping the pieces, he turned to Shepseheret, who, gazing at the massacre of cereal products, raised an eyebrow.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Excuse me ... I was distracted."

The Queen lowered her perfectly painted lids.

"I was asking about your Phoenician lessons."

"They were ... educational," the prince haltingly replied after clearing his throat. "Reshu is a good tutor."

At that, Merenkahre's attention got attracted by his youngest son. Creases etched themselves into his forehead like notches into the workpiece of a carpenter, causing a queasy feeling to spread throughout the boy's stomach.

"It appears to me he well surpasses Nahim if you are able to follow his teachings to the end."

No! So, he _had_ found out about the cut short lesson the other day!

"Father, I-," Ahkmenrah began, but was interrupted by the Pharaoh's uplifted hand.

"Can you provide an explanation for this behavior?"

Out of all the responses that flashed through his mind, none would have satisfied the King. They didn't even sound apt in his own ears now. Searching for enlightenment, he let his gaze roam about. All he saw, however, were Isetamun, who had moved closer to Kahmunrah, now watching his brother from the corner of her eye, and Kah, who, judging by his thin-lipped smile, wouldn't pose any objection to his father's reprimand. Ahkmen swallowed.

"My concentration was ... not very pronounced ... But," he hastily added, "I rectified the omission yesterday."

Merenkahre only seemed moderately contented with that.

"I expect you to give your best at everything you do. That applies for the both of you." His finger flicked to his right, where Kahmunrah made every effort to look unsuspicious by dipping bread into his mushed peas. Since his study morals, however, didn't have priority right now, the older man faced Ahkmen again. "I do not tolerate such idleness and it will carry consequences! Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, father." The young prince's eyes broke away from Merenkahre's and sank to the battlefield of crumbs on his plate. "I will never again be negligent of my tuitions."

Suddenly, the Pharaoh's chest began convulsing frantically; the muscles in his neck became visible. It seemed almost as if he tried to breathe with closed windpipe. Then, he started to cough terribly. Shepseheret gripped her husband's forearm in alarm and passed him his goblet, which he, in turn, pushed away.

"A cloth!" he wheezed in agony, hand pressed against his mouth. A servant bolted to the table and delivered the demanded item with lowered head. The King pushed it into his face while the fit wrenched him back and forth. A quaint silence took hold of the room when the musicians stilled their song as well. It was only at a slow pace that the King recovered. When he again drew steadier breaths, he removed the fabric from his lips and quickly folded it. Did... did Ahkmenrah just see a red spot there? His father handed the kerchief back to the servant before he could be sure.

"Was that-?"

"I am fine," Merenkahre reassured, voice raw from exertion. Now, he reached for his drink and emptied it in one gulp. The Queen took his cramped hand into her own, tracing soothing circles on it with her thumb. Had the cloth been stained with blood? Or had he seen it wrongly and it had simply been wine? Seeking help, his eyes slid across the table. Kah and Iset, while still appearing worried, resumed their meals since the coughing attack had subsided.

The boy threw his parents one last perturbed look, but neither of them caught it. Lost in thought, he attended to his own food again, watching the musicians reverting to their melodies. Two girls next to them proceeded their dance, somewhat unsure, but it didn't matter since nobody payed them attention anyway. A pity, really, for they did a fantastic job. Yet, not even he could bring himself to look at their performance for long.

A slight breeze wafted them with the scent of the night when the young man decided to go to bed. After all, he had big plans for the next morning and he still had to pick out an object he wanted to offer Nefari as a redress, so he bid everyone good night and rose. His dog followed hard on his heels as he left.

* * *

The night seemed much too short when he blinked into the dim daylight. Once more, his internal clock urged him back on his feet before Tem could shuffle his somnolent form through the door and his morning routine got lost in his thoughts. Faster than expected, he wrapped Ranheb's laundered _shendyt_ around his hips and found himself in the bedroom, ready for his short trip.

"Your Highness?" a sudden voice permeated the door.

Damnit! Speaking of him... What was he doing here at this time? Behind him, someone cleared his throat and Ahkmen squinted his eyes shut. Nahim. That ought to be the repercussions his father had mentioned yesterday. What was he supposed to do now? If he disregarded his lessons afresh so soon, they would never again let him see the light of day. He threw a quick glance behind. On the other hand, this unit had never been announced, so he didn't know about it and nobody could hold him accountable if he wasn't in his chambers now, right?

Right.

"My prince?" Tem asked for a second time, rapping on the wood cautiously. Jahi scampered down the stairs of the dais and stuck his nose through the gap under the door, whereas the boy took advantage of the servant's uncertainty, dashing to his washroom's balcony as fast as he could. Just as he heard the older man entering his bedroom, he swung over the balustrade. It was still so early that he only encountered other people at the servants' entrance, which was manned by two guards whose eyes burned with desire for sleep. They let him pass undisturbed.

The streets were much emptier than two days ago, but the reason for that certainly was Ra, who hadn't even climbed over the horizon yet. Finding his way to the pottery didn't cause any difficulties for the scurrying prince. If he could count on one thing it was his sense of direction. Besides, the streets here, in the main district, had been laid out fairly overseeable, which was more than could be said about the area at the edge of the city. It didn't take long until he stood in front of the well-known, weathered gate. Knocking vigorously, he asked himself if the siblings could even hear him from inside or if he should just enter. Engrossed in thought, his fingers slid to his wrist to –

He stopped short. Instead of smooth metal, he only felt warm skin. Gripped by shock, he lifted his arm in front of his face; it was terribly bare. Oh no, he had forgotten to bring the bracelet as compensation! That morning, Ra's first rays witnessed the princeramming his forehead into a door. What was more, it opened before he could think of a backup plan. He detached his head from the wood to not topple inside, massaging the base of his nose with closed eyes.

"You're back!" the girl exclaimed with audible relief.

"Why are you surprised by that?" he asked, pulling the hand out of his face. "I told you I would ... What is wrong?"

Dark shadows surrounded her pleading eyes, and a crease was cut between her brows. Her braid had almost become undone. She looked horrible.

"I need your help!"


	7. The sword above their heads

**Hello friends :) I present you another chapter and the longest list of references yet:**

 **-Heb-Peret-Sopdet: Festival of Sopdet. It was celebrated on New Year's Day, (subsequent to the Heriu-Renpet) when Sopdet (the star Sirius) rose on the horizon. The river's inundation followed immediately after.**

 **-Sunu: Present-day Aswan, approx. 130 miles south of Thebes**

 **-Mesen: Present-day Edfu, approx. 100 miles south of Thebes**

 **-Senet: A board game, quite similar to Parcheesi, Ludo or Mensch-ärgere-dich-nicht**

 **-Apep: Embodiment of chaos. Depicted as a giant serpent or tortoise. He lurks at the entrance to the underworld and attacks Ra's barque when it comes by.**

 **-Kemet: Egypt. The literal translation is "black land", referring to the fertile black soils of the Nile's flood plains.**

 **-Khonsu: God of the moon and of course the one Ahkmenrah's tablet draws its power from. He, together with his mother Mut and his father Amun, formed the 'Theban Triad'. Khonsu is often depicted as mummy with the disk and the crescent of the moon on his head.**

 **-Thoth: Another moon god. Also god of magic, science, scribes, and wisdom (and honestly a lot more stuff). Among other things, he was depicted as man with ibis head or baboon.**

* * *

"How is this?" she heard Huya ask and looked up to him. A small bowl with yellow dots on its rim was pushed into her face. She took his masterpiece, hands well away from the wet paint, and had a closer look. He had obviously heeded her advice and used his thumb for measuring.

"Better."

With lit up features and ocher-coated painting stick between his fingers, he leaned forward to take the vessel back.

"So," he pulled her from her work, just as she had taken it up again, "Are you going to tell me why we have to make all these bowls like Ammit is after our hearts?"

Immediately, heat shot into her face. The fatigue that bore down on her so heavily vanished for a moment. Pretending to be suddenly more intent on her work, she painted the clay with a wavy pattern, pressing too hard on her painting stick so it made an obnoxious scraping sound.

"I already did," she murmured. "How's your arm, by the way?"

"Better, but stop avoiding the question. You did not explain why we have to paint the bowls."

Nefari kept her head down. There was already so much unconcealed distrust in his voice, and she didn't want to meet his eyes.

"I did too," she protested. "I told you Ranheb and I were in trouble."

"Yes. Said 'trouble' was never specified, though," he responded unrelenting. Involuntarily, her gaze flitted up to his face. Seeing him practically piercing her with narrowed eyes left her with little hope that he would back down. "What are you keeping from me?"

Her throat, all of a sudden, became as parched as if she was standing in the middle of a sandstorm, desperately taking in deep breaths. Even the sand seemed to be stuck in her esophagus, compressed into an enormous lump that a normal swallowing reflex could never deal with. She would have to tell him, wouldn't she? Her shoulders slunk forward. Yes... Defeated, she shifted her weight and sighed.

"Apparently, our father wasn't able to pay the taxes last year. They granted him a reprieve, but we didn't know that. And now they want twice as much at the end of the year or Ranheb has to perform forced labor."

All of the young woman's attention focused on the paint streaking the small creases on the back of her hand as she finished talking. With every breath the air became thicker, it could have been cut with a knife.

"Where is your father now?" he broke the silence after a few heartbeats, admittedly warmer than before, but the peculiar insubstantiality in his voice implied he already knew the answer.

"Dead."

"... And your mother?"

"Even more so."

She bit down on the inside of her cheek and brought herself to look up one more time. He held his head a little to the side; his mouth a somber line that pushed his already more prominent upper lip forth.

"I am sorry."

The girl nodded, then both lapsed back into silence while working as fast and as meticulous as they could. Tomorrow was the first day of the Heriu-Renpet, the birthday of Osiris. If the Heb-Peret-Sopdet - the festival of Sopdet - on New Year's Day was taken into account, they now had exactly seven days left. Seven days until the tax collectors came. Seven days for about thirty bowls. That bordered on sheer impossibility since the ceramics had to dry for several days before being kiln-fired. Not to mention the misfires that could occur despite the most fastidious efforts. A gurgling sound pulled her from the mire of her thoughts; it was all too familiar. She looked at the young man, twisting her mouth when he averted his gaze.

"I have not eaten anything today."

Oh. The surest indication for pathetic hospitality had to be a starving guest. She lowered her head. A glimpse down at her hands reminded her that she'd recolor everything she touched if she didn't wash them, so she dipped them into the water bowl preventively standing next to her.

"We ought to have some dried fish somewhere. Wait here," she said and stood up, wiping the wet hands on her dress.

"Uhm ... Well, actually ..." he began, only to stop and then worry his lower lip with his teeth instead of answering. Did he have an objection to fish? Nefari thought to remember from one of Tiwas stories that some people deemed fish impure and so they didn't eat it. Maybe he was like that too? Well, it certainly was alright with her. The less he ate here the more was left for her and Ranheb. But he'd obviously changed his mind as he shook his head and forced a stiff smile upon his lips.

"Never mind."

Shrugging her shoulders, she left the room. The pantry's darkness surrounded her with the usual smell of food and earth. A weird combination but perfectly coherent, seeing that they stored the ground up colors for their paint in between the provisions. Raising herself on tiptoes, she fumbled for the fish plate on the top shelf. Her fingers brushed over sand on wood, then dust on wood and then finally the rough, cool clay. It was decidedly inconvenient to keep all the good dishes up there, but Kiy as well as several kinds of vermin had impressively proven more than once how easy it was to reach lower surfaces.

The bread basket nearly hit her in the head when she pulled it down but she managed to balance it out. With both containers in her arms and fingers clenched around the beer jug and cups, she returned to the workshop. Huya, in the meantime, had cleared away their utensils from one side of the table and also washed his hands, as she suspected by perceiving the droplets of water on the tabletop. He patiently waited for her to spread out the meal and say a quick prayer before reaching for a piece of bread. Serving somebody who didn't already start scarfing down the food while she still held it in her hands made for a nice change. Appreciatively, he bit into the bread, chewing a few times with gusto and then stopped, brows knotted together. Nefari eyed him unsure.

"Are you alright?"

The young man nodded with hesitance, swallowing sharply.

"Tastes nice ... The sand ... uh ... renders a special touch."

"Oh, yes ... My sieve is quite coarse. Here," she pushed his cup closer to him, "wash it down."

Clearing his throat, Huya took a swig from the beer and either his aversion for it wasn't as strong or he just did a better job hiding it because he kept a straight face.

"You should try the fish. I guarantee you it's sand-free," she grinned while standing up and taking the third beaker out into the yard. There, under the combined heat of Ra and the kiln, her brother kneeled, stoking the fire. The sheen of sweat on his back reflected the sunrays so it looked like he wore a pristine white tunic in some patches. A strong contrast to the beige _shendyt_ Huya had returned at his arrival. Groaning, he dragged a dusty hand across his face.

"Drink." She held the cup before his eyes and he only noticed her then, straightening himself and emptying the vessel in three eager gulps.

"Thanks."

"How's it going?" she wanted to know.

"Takes time." His eyes wandered past her and fixated themselves on the house before they reverted to his sister, "How's he getting on?"

"We're faster with him."

Hard to believe but true ... A short silence followed in which only the crackling of the fire and the faint voices on the street outside could be heard. Ranheb squatted down next to the kiln again.

"I still think you shouldn't have asked him for help. We should be able to do this on our own."

"Under any other circumstances I'd completely agree with you, but the guard said himself that this is our last chance. And I'm really not willing to just stand there and watch while they deport you to some quarry in _Sunu_ or _Mesen._ Have you ever heard what people tell about these places? If you come back at all it is with smashed limbs."

She faced the door and heard him exhale loudly.

"Why are you such a know-it-all?"

A grin stretched the corners of her mouth apart and she turned back.

"That's the gift of common sense. You should try to use it sometime yourself."

"You-"

He tried grabbing her but she expected the attack and retreated three steps, chuckling.

"Come inside when you're done with this batch, else you're going to catch a sun stroke. Ra is burning particularly mercilessly today."

He applied his attention to the kiln one last time while she fled back into the comparatively cool house. Inside the shop, Huya had now brought himself to nibble on a strip of fish. His contorted face, however, rather led her to believe that he was chewing on a bunch of stones.

"So, tell me," the girl plopped down next to him, "do you have siblings?"

He looked from the dish to her, humming in affirmation.

"One brother."

"Does he tell you that your ideas are stupid, too?" she asked with a sigh, observing his cup. It was empty so she reached for the jug and filled it back up. Afterwards, she took a swig from her own beer. He was silent for a moment before he answered.

"Well, he basically thinks my birth was a stupid idea, so ..."

The grunt she emitted drove the drink into her nose. Somewhat unsure, she frowned at him. Was that a joke? He held her gaze, no trace of amusement in his features.

"Sounds like an endearing fellow."

Huya huffed and nodded with a dry grin.

"What's his name?" she inquired as she stretched over the table, trying to pull over the bowl she had last worked on.

"Kahmunr-"

With a strained wheeze she got hold of the vessel but his reply was drowned out by it.

"What?"

"Uh ... Ka ... His name is Ka", he stated, put the last bit of fish into his mouth and rinsed it down with his drink.

"Hm. Why's he down on you?"

Except for his destructiveness towards pottery and the overall quaintness he seemed nice enough. She faltered. Did... did she really just think that? The sleep deprivation was affecting her more than she had assumed. Above the man's narrowed eyes, his brows pushed into each other and his shoulders were hunching. He looked wary, as if he was just waiting for her to go for his throat.

"What is it?"

"Why do you care about that?"

Skepticism plated his voice; it was hardened by it as the clay in the kiln was outside. Nefari responded with the truth and a humorlessly lifted mouth corner.

"Because I've been awake since yesterday morning and I really need some distraction from these stupid bowls."

After a soft puff from his nose, she only heard the quiet scratching of his stick with which he scraped together the rest of the ocher paint. He bit down on his lower lip.

"My brother has the impression that our parents favor me."

"Do they?"

She drove away a fly that was crawling along her arm without taking her sight off him.

"Of course not. He just likes being jealous."

"Is he older or younger than you?"

"Older. By nine years ..."

Ranheb entered the room a moment later which attracted their attention and Nefari covered a yawn with her hand, more or less successful.

"How many do we have now?" he questioned and sat beside his sister, wiping some sweat from his forehead with his arm. The girl looked over to the workshop's corner where only six sad bowls were stacked.

"Only those."

Following her look, he understood what she meant and his shoulders slouched. Then, suddenly, Huya whipped his head up, eyes as wide as the rim of the bowl he was working on.

"What time is it?"

He stared out of the windows and the woman followed his example. Unfortunately, the notches were inset in the walls that Ra never passed by and so it was hard to tell.

"Morning," was all she was able to make out.

"No." He glanced around the room frantically but didn't find what he was looking for and had to screw his eyes shut in defeat. "What is the exact time?"

"Uh... midmorning...?"

Shaking his head, he set his workpiece down on the table and stood up.

"I have to go."

"Oh." She lowered her own bowl, forehead wrinkling. "Already?"

"I am sorry."

Reaching the hallway, he apologetically pulled his head between his shoulders and hurried past the curtain, disappearing from her field of view. From outside, Kiy's indignant protest screech could be heard. The young man quite possibly had scared her away from her resting spot in his haste. Her brother only shrugged, unfazed by their guest's sudden departure. Nefari on the other hand gritted her teeth, intent on sparing Ranheb the quarry. Fast as a plummeting falcon, she rushed into the yard, only to watch the gate snapping shut.

"Huya!" she called out, sprinting through the knee-high sea of heat the kiln was pouring out in front of her. Hastily, she wrenched open the door and searched for him between the dozens of people that where cluttering the streets in preparation for the approaching festivities. Damnit! Where was he? Where... There! A white _shendyt!_ Amidst a woman carrying a fishing net and a one-armed man.

"Huya!"

He didn't directly react to his name, but turned around soon enough, a questioning look in his eyes. A square-shouldered boy pushed him aside when he stopped in his way. She strained her neck to not lose sight of him when a table was carried by.

"You'll come back, right?"

Ugh. Terrible how desperate that sounded. She wanted to fool herself into believing that she didn't need his help like Ranheb did. That she could hurdle everything life threw before her feet. Facing the truth, though, his absence during the holidays would plunge the siblings into a fairly serious catastrophe, and that sooner rather than later. The boy threw her a dull smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

"As soon as I can," he assured, disappearing between the bustling masses. She was left behind with a stifling feeling. Lost in thought, she closed the gate and walked inside, checking the water level in Pepy's trough on her way in. The donkey himself stood in the sycamore's shade in front of the stable, dozing with hanging head. Everything was alright in his little world. Sighing, she went back into the house. Enviable.

Aside from Huyas bowl, they painted four more that day. After that, they waited for the kiln to do its job but doing that and nothing else was as a productive idea as jumping into a crocodile pit with meat sewn into the clothing, so they brought as much clay into bowl-shape as they could.

If they wanted to eat today, Nefari would also have to bake bread. In addition, the dirty dishes were piling up in front of the house. Smothering Ranheb with all the pottery work was unfair, but around noon she just couldn't bear the hunger any longer. Besides, her brother's stomach, too, protested against its emptiness very noisily.

When she climbed onto the roof to prepare the meal, he even followed her with his current lump of clay. They didn't talk much, but even his quiet company was welcome. Ra's barque was extremely eager to reach the _Duat_ today, or so it seemed. When evening came, they sat in front of the house to work in the last daylight, but that, too, bled out of the horizon, and they were forced to light a lamp inside. Its shine decreased over the course of the hours and when the flame died, they would face a problem...

* * *

Wood. There was wood in front of her eyes. Her nose was squeezed flat. Why? She blinked. Oh, it was the table in the workshop. Her forehead laid on top of her folded arms. Lifting it, she yawned. It was pitch-black night, the lamp's light had long gone out. Apparently, she'd fallen asleep while working. Bleary-eyed, she looked around, recognizing her brother in the black blotch across the table. The same fate had befallen him, the only difference was him still travelling the land of dreams. Nefari stretched her arms above the head, but immediately stopped when her back objected by cracking loudly. Ah! All those hours she had spent in this awkward position didn't do much good at all-

 _Krsh._

What was that sound? It had come from the hall. The girl gazed at the pathway but could only make out the dark rectangle in the light wall. Maybe Kiy was rambling around? Oh. Maybe not. Ranheb's shadow moved, but she realized quickly that it was the cat that had curled up on top of the young man's back.

 _Krsh._

There it was again! Curse it, that wasn't rats, right? Kiy was a good huntress and she was after every single one of those pests, but they always returned.

 _Krsh._

Wait, weren't those... footsteps? The woman's blood ran cold. Her heart pounded fiercely against its cage while she stared deeper into the blackness of the hallway, any trace of tiredness forgotten. What if it was a burglar? The crooked outer wall and old door were utterly useless when it came to keeping people out, to say nothing of the curtain.

"Ranheb," she whispered, eyes glued to the shop's exit. Her brother didn't budge. "Ranheb!"

But he was sleeping too deeply. Even musicians playing their instruments at full volume wouldn't have been able to wake him up like this. A searing heat shot through the potter. On the table next to her, she spotted one of the wooden frames they had pressed the clay into. Not exactly suitable for defending life and limb, but better than her mere fists. Noiseless, she rose, clutching firmly to the mold's handle. She neared the door soft-footed; the weight in her hand gave her at least some assurance. Her throat was bone-dry but she didn't dare swallow out of fear that it could be heard. Carefully, she peered around the corner.

There! Indeed, someone was standing at the foot of the stairs! Oh, why did they have a drowsy cat instead of a guard dog? The girl broke out in a cold sweat. What if he was armed? Oh, Isis! But he hadn't noticed her yet, she had an advantage. The intruder had his back turned, too. He looked into the pantry and then inclined his head up towards the bedroom. That was all they needed now! It was already unlikely they were able to pay the taxes without being robbed! All of a sudden, an inexplicable fury filled her to the tip of her hair. Good! Being angry was better than being afraid. She quietly bridged the last steps to the stranger, hauling her makeshift weapon off in a wide arc and letting it come down on him as hard as she could.

He shot around, roughly grabbing her wrist. The mold stopped a finger's breath from his head and fell to the ground. Just as she was about to scream bloody murder, she recognized his features in the dim light.

"Goddam, Huya!", she hissed under her breath, "My, you scared me to death! What are you doing here?!"

"Sacrificing my precious night's sleep for someone who wants to kill me, it would seem," he retorted calmly. How nice that he was so unaffected by this while her heart was tripping over itself! He let go of her hand, which she promptly made use of by punching his upper arm.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"Scaring me, you idiot!" With grim satisfaction, she heard him rub the hurting spot. "Why in the name of Isis did you come back?!"

"Because I gave you my word. Maybe you remember," he remarked pointedly, at which her glum face smoothed a bit.

"You mean... you're here to help? Now?"

"You are surprised by that for the second time in one day, despite prior notice." Irritation creeped into his voice. "I am beginning to think you have trust issues!"

"I'll give you 'trust issues' alright!" She picked up the frame. "How was I supposed to know you'd return here in the dead of the night?"

"Does that mean you do not want my help?"

She observed a dark brow climbing up his forehead and released a heavy breath.

"No, I do. But the next time you decide to come here at so late an hour, it would be great if you could let me know."

"As if I am at fault for the darkness in here. Why do you not light a lamp?"

The girl kept silent, staring into his eyes that, oddly enough, in the gloom of the hallway contrasted dark against his skin, not light as usual. He held her gaze, just as unswerving until she compressed her lips with a sigh.

"We don't have any oil left, that's why."

The young man exhaled audibly and the potter thought to see him massage the bridge of his nose.

"So I came here for nothing?"

Nefari raised one shoulder helplessly and watched the silverish pattern the moon was painting on the curtain, at which an idea bloomed in her head. She snatched in the direction in which she discerned the outline of his arm and suppressed a grin when he jerked back in shock.

"Maybe not. Follow me."

He stumbled behind her, arms stretched out like a child that was learning to walk. Even for somebody who didn't know the way he was overcautious. Did he fear she would let him run into the next wall? She could only pity him, displaying such an amount of distrust, she thought as she guided him through the workshop, around the table with the softly snoring Ranheb, and to the cellar's staircase. Opening the trapdoor, she descended into the impenetrable, inky blackness. Down here was the perfect hiding place for demons and evil spirits... Shuddering and with unseeing eyes, she groped her way around the tiny room until her hands landed on the last clay blocks that were stored there.

"If he wakes up now, I do have to go home with a bump on my head after all," she heard him mutter from above, obviously referring to her brother.

"Don't worry." She stacked a couple of blocks in the crook of her arm. "The boy sleeps like the dead."

"Yes, you say that now, but in the end I am the one sporting the black eye."

Smirking, she shook her head as a sudden cramp fastened onto her calf. She clumsily hobbled back to the stairs, trying to relax the burning muscle with rotary movements of her foot. The murky underworld released her unresistingly when she got up the sand-sprinkled steps. If there was but one advantage in walking shoeless, it was the better footing. Unfortunately, she was unable to hold up her dress, fully laden like that. As it was bound to happen, she tripped over the front hem, lost her balance, and already visioned herself lying in the basement with broken neck when Huya's hand shot forth, steadying her.

"Careful."

Nefari swallowed and cast a glance into the dark void beneath. Then, she breathed deeply to calm her racing heart and looked up at the boy, motioning to the table.

"C-can you take the paints and the water jug?"

She reckoned to see him nod before he let go of her and headed towards the low piece of furniture. Bending over it, he gathered the inquired items and they left the house shortly after. The moon was only half full tonight, weakened by Thoth's defeat of Khonsu in the _Senet_ game. That didn't really comply with her plans but she couldn't change it, mortal as she was. Besides, even the little moonlight out here was better than the complete darkness in the shop. _Shemu_ didn't allow the night to cool the land down too much, but the temperatures now were infinitely more bearable than the heat of the day. The air was steeped in silence. Only once did they hear a stray dog yelp in front of the gate. Maybe it even was a jackal that had dared to venture down into the city in his search for food. The quiet of this night was the last they'd experience in the next seven days. At this time tomorrow, the _Heriu-Renpet_ would be in full play. All of _Kemet_ would celebrate the birthday of Osiris while she and her brother would have to make sure they finished those stupid bowls.

They clambered onto the pottery's roof, that, in the pallid glow of Khonsu's crescent, stood out against its black surroundings. The only other lights out here were the stars. Free and uncovered by clouds, they were sparkling in the sky like gems stitched onto fabric. A slight breeze rustled through the roofing's palm leaves, carrying the scent of the desert. At once, Nefari was filled with a deep peace that almost made her forget the hot water she and Ranheb were in right now. _Had been in_ since their father had died, really, and _would be_ in no matter how hard she worked, it appeared. The shuffle of Huya's feet reminded her that they had no time to spare for standing around, star-gazing idly.

"You can put that down," she instructed and pointed at the load in his arms. "I'll light us a fire."

The young woman heeded her own advice, spreading the clay blocks out before her. Following this, she climbed back down to the kiln in the yard, that, much to her relief, still held some glowing embers. She situated a tuft of straw which her brother kept within reach in front of the opening, and, using his poking stick, carefully slid the fire's fragile remains into the nest.

Completely focused on it, she padded through the silence, only making out the path from the corners of her eyes. Nefari sat the embers into her small oven and gingerly blew on them. Her braid was firm in her hand, far away from the greedy fingers the fire would evolve. A few breaths later, the straw had ignited. Before it could burn up and die, she pushed a dried piece of donkey dung inside, crumpled it a bit and waited for the flames to get hold of it. Huya watched her working silently. Maybe he, too, was captured by the surreal atmosphere. The orange shine around them fought bravely against the white beams of moonlight, causing shadows to flicker across the roof.

"I have never seen somebody as fast asleep as your brother."

The young man reached for a block and the water jug to pour a gush of the liquid over the clay, starting to pug it. A working technique he had only acquired this morning.

"He wouldn't even wake up if Apep managed to throw the world into chaos now," she remarked, also grabbing a heap of clay. Huya lifted his head and pushed his brows together. The firelight deepened the creases that appeared on his forehead. It put years on him.

"You shouldn't conjure up such connotations. That angers the gods."

"Oh, don't worry about that." She began forming her lump. "The gods never listen to what I have to say."

He didn't give an answer to that. From her peripheral vision she detected him pausing in his motion. Why did he stop? Cautiously, she peered through her lashes. Legs crossed under him and upper lip pushed forth, he looked at her. His gaze was sober and she almost believed to have spotted pity in it. However, before she could be completely sure, he averted his eyes and resumed his assigned job. Good for him. She needed his help, not his pity. In the sprawling silence, the slurred call that suddenly echoed up to them was deafening.

"Stones can't hear music!"

The potter snorted and lifted her head. Huya had a grin on his face as well when he looked into the direction this breakthrough discovery had come from.

"Tekhy, be quiet! You're going to wake the whole city," scolded a female voice in the street below. Evidently, someone was having trouble taking a drunk home.

"No, I – let go! People need to know how unfair that is!"

"Please, shut up!"

Nefari imagined vividly how the woman was looking from side to side, afraid that the neighbors would come storming out of their houses.

"But Seba, stones don't have ears. We should-"

He didn't reveal his plan, instead a telltale thump could be heard. Only a few moments later, his muffled voice resounded again.

"Seba?"

His companion exhaled in annoyance, so loud that even the nightly workers on the roof were able to hear it.

"Yes?"

"I fell onto my face," he mumbled, confused.

"I can see that." Her tone conveyed the wish of also letting herself crash into the ground face-first.

"... There are stones down here."

Huya and Nefari exchanged one look and exploded with laughter. Tears rose in the girl's eyes and she soon had to hold her sides because they were beginning to hurt. Even as the woman in front of the wall had succeeded in heaving her friend to his feet and dragging him to the street's corner, all the while reprimanding him, they were still snickering.

"Interesting neighbors," the boy noted, his voice shaking from the laughing fit.

"Oh, that was nothing. This time last year, I already had to pick somebody out of the donkey's trough," she grinned, but then remembered the whole story. "Wait ... That was Ranheb."

Shaking his head, huffing, and mouth stretched into a smile, he continued working. Astonishingly precise even for the few hours of practice he had in this craft. Something about her words seemed to amuse him, but apparently, he didn't intend on sharing his thoughts. So, she helped him along.

"What's so funny?"

"The holidays are the only time of the year when he doesn't have to fear you casting him out if he gets drunk, are they not?"

She shrugged, smoothening out her piece of clay.

"Maybe."

"Then him getting bold during the _Heriu-Renpet_ should not surprise you. Since he is really not the only one," he said with a cocked eyebrow which made her copy his expression.

"And since when exactly are you an expert on drunken brothers? You made it sound like yours was evil incarnate."

He scoffed slightly in the light of her exaggeration.

"I am not talking about my brother. But a friend of mine, Bek, is assessed in a rather similar manner."

Nefari lowered her bowl, eyes following it. To her, the concept of the peculiar boy having friends was quite odd. But if she thought about it... Why ever not?

"Sounds like he and Ranheb would get along great."

"They probably would indeed," the young man agreed thoughtfully.

"We should make sure they never meet then. Two of them in one place would be a bad idea."

"...Right."

The girl couldn't help but notice his vague undertone. Something about it bothered her, but she didn't really know what it was.

"I am finished, by the way," he interjected her thoughts and presented his creation. There were still a few dents in the clay and the bowl's rim didn't have a consistent height, but he had visibly refined his art. His first try had borne an uncanny resemblance to a dead sheep that had already been half devoured by vultures.

"What do you say, oh mighty one?"

She nodded, chuckling.

"Oh yes, I can see it. You were born for this."

* * *

 **Looks like someone's not a fan of sandy bread :D As a matter of fact, many Egyptians were prone to dental abrasion due to the sand and chips of grinding stone that ended up in their flour (though the teeth problems actually affected all classes, but let's pretend Ahk's family could afford higher quality flour with less sand in it).The story with the impure fish is true as well. Especially people that were better off seemed to have left it well alone.**

 **Who's in for some Egyptian mythology now? The legend of Thoth, Khonsu, and the** _ **Senet**_ **game has it as follows: They both played, Khonsu wagered some of his light and lost it. Because of that, he can't shine full every night but has to wax and wane. And that's pretty much it.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)**


	8. Heriu-Renpet

**Hi guys, just a little heads-up: This is just my interpretation of the Heriu-Renpet. It may not be a 100 % accurate. At any rate, there seemed to have been a lot of alcohol involved, as well as… other substances. So yeah, enjoy :D**

 **-Seni: My brother**

* * *

Three out of six. Only three out of six holidays had passed and Ahkmenrah already had a mental breakdown knocking on his door. He couldn't take five steps without encountering a drunken person, all the while his own mind was as clear and unclouded as the sky above. The people grew more tiresome by the hour.

That, of course, begged the question as to why he himself refrained from the festivities. Well, that would be due to a certain pair of siblings being dependent on his help. Which, in turn, entailed his second contemporary problem: the fatigue. He had barely been able to catch any sleep in the last two nights because he had been helping in the pottery shop. Thank the gods today he had managed to sneak into the city during the daytime. With it, so he hoped, would come the normalization of his Circadian rhythm. Because at this rate it wouldn't be long before his head dropped into his mushed peas during dinner.

Entering the small, walled house in the afternoon, he was promptly met by the glumness that radiated from brother and sister. That wasn't even what shocked him the most. No; it was Nefari, who after all the hours of darkness, he finally saw in daylight again. The additional work and the lack of sleep were taking their toll. She seemed even more gaunt than usual; her face could as well have been that of a corpse. Her dress was covered with dirt. Even Ranheb was too worn out to complain about Ahkmen's presence, as was customary for him. All three worked side by side in silence for a while, each too tired to pay much attention to the others. And then it happened, the biggest disaster possible.

 _Crack_

"Shit!"

Nefari and Ahkmenrah were torn from their work, their heads jerked up and they looked over to Ranheb. In one hand he held a knife handle from which now only a ragged copper shard protruded. The rest of the blade was buried in the clay block on top of the table which he had intended to cut. When she realized what had happened, Nefari hid the face behind her hands.

Her brother only stared at the offending handle as if he could coax it into sprouting a new blade on its own. Neither of them moved. It was obvious how desperately they wanted the

situation to be a bad dream. The prince frowned; they didn't have time to sit around and mope.

"We should go and buy a new knife while there is still daylight to work in," he suggested, rising from his cross-legged stance and shaking his limbs out of their immobility. This pulled Nefari from her state of mental disconnection. She too stood up, an irritated glint in her eye that almost restored her common appearance. Ahkmen's mind was a bit too slow to understand that this glint always meant trouble for him.

"Not a new knife. A new blade is enough."

The prince exhaled and closed his eyes. Even he, who was in no way an experienced trader, saw the giant flaw in her plan.

"Do you honestly believe you will find someone to mend a broken, old knife when they can just as well sell you a new one?"

"Out of the deepest depths of my soul, yes," she drily responded. Her flippant tone lowered the corners of his mouth.

"That is not very likely to lead to success."

"Just you wait."

"Really, Nefari-"

She flicked her hand dismissively and turned her back with such speed that her braid whipped from one shoulder to the other. Fine. Let her have it her own way. He'd warned her. Without further reacting to him, she stepped around the table and took the handle from Ranheb before heading to the corner were the finished bowls were stored. Then, she lifted two of them that he recognized as his own handiwork.

For the fraction of a moment, a flash of pride surged through him but the awareness that she was only taking his bowls because they had to keep their best pieces for the tax collectors caught up to him right after. The young woman disappeared from the room; by the sound of her steps her destination was the pantry. And indeed, when she emerged in the doorway, she had her fingers clamped around a pouch.

"Are you coming?"

How generous of her to leave him at least the illusion of free will. Rolling his eyes, he climbed to his feet and followed her. They left the pottery and began to search the turmoil of the streets for some merchant that would not charge horrific prices and 'steal them blind', as she had put it.

"What is in here?" Ahkmenrah asked after a while. His fingers ran over the bag he had just divested her of, trying to feel its contents.

"Grain," she answered. "We have no binder for the paint left, remember?" Yes, now that she brought it up … "Go and swap that for half a dozen eggs. I'm looking for a knife maker."

Ahkmen's attention followed her pointing finger in the direction of the marketplace that had been transformed into a festival ground. The houses were adorned with garlands of flowers. In the past, he wouldn't have wasted a thought about it but now it occurred to him what work it ought to have been to tie them all.

Most of the stalls had given way to reed mats, low stools and small tables, but he was still able to make out a few merchants. He faced Nefari again, but only caught her back disappearing between a loudly-singing woman and a screaming boy. Now on his own, he considered which one of the three merchants close to him would be the best to make his purchase with.

Straight ahead seemed like a good place to start. He navigated through the crowd which increased in density the closer he got to the marketplace. Around the selected tradesman, they stood as close to each other as the papyrus sedges on the riverbank.

Neither clearing his throat nor asking patiently took him one step further and it surprised him himself how readily he used his elbows in order to get to his destination. He blamed the lack of sleep for his harshness. Or maybe it was the ongoing interaction with Nefari as of late. Well, at least it ended up carrying him to the wooden stall.

"Aha, now you look like someone who appreciates a nice pair of shoes." The dealer told him - an old, underlined man with leathery skin and a shadow of short hair that enveloped his head. Ahkmenrah looked down at his feet, tucked into well-trodden sandals. He had bought them during his very first visit here. The clay digging the other day had visibly worn them down. The prince shook his head, wanting to answer, but the old man wouldn't let him.

"Maybe a perch, then?"

He reached for something under his table and from one moment to the next he dangled an ugly fish in front of the boy's nose, its mouth hanging wide open. The hideous sight and especially the unpleasant smell reminded him again why he couldn't stand fish.

"No, I-"

"So, a plummet! Today is your lucky day, boy. I only have ten of them left. "He lifted a pile of wood angles with lead weights on strings onto the tabletop. "Pick one." The fact that it was well over ten pieces led to the conclusion that the intrusive trader could not count properly at all. "And if you're interested in a hammer-"

"Six eggs," Ahkmenrah interjected, "just six eggs, please." If someone had told him at that point how much longer it would take for those six eggs to actually be in his possession, he would have left right away. The man was so unspecialized that, alongside an ivory comb – that didn't look like it was really made of ivory – he offered a few glass beads, a lump of resin, a cracked perfume vessel as well as three and a half sewing needles. Ahkmen had to expend a lot of his self-control to keep his voice at a normal volume while stating repeatedly that he needed only six eggs.

Only. Six. Eggs.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to swap the grain and gently store the long-awaited binder in the now empty bag. When the merchant proposed to him a dental operation at a special price, he said his goodbye in a tone for which his mother would have pulled his ears and meandered through the revelers until the strange man was out of sight.

Finding Nefari among all the noisy people was almost more difficult than his shopping. But just as he resolved giving up and returning to the pottery shop, he heard her voice piercing through the flute music. He could follow her as easily as a red line painted onto the sandy ground. And indeed, not three heartbeats later he spotted a woman with her hands on her hips and a contorted face. An unmistakable image.

"... And we'd much rather sit at one of those tables, too, enjoying ourselves, but no, we work like mad so life as we know it doesn't end forever. Now put a new blade into the handle. Please."

The knife maker she was just giving a piece of her mind was young. Barely old enough to be considered a man. As he approached, Ahkmenrah watched him exhaling in annoyance, quickly looking around before reaching out, shaking his head.

"Fine, let me see. But don't tell my uncle."

The girl nodded, grim satisfaction on her face, and passed the handle into the waiting fingers. While, in the boy's stead, Ahkmen would have been upset at that brazenness he could now only admire her for it. Looks like he had underestimated the girl. That now occurred with a terrifying frequency.

"Oh, Huya," she called when she spotted him coming closer, "what took you so long?"

For once, she sounded not reproachful but honestly confused. The young man dodged two children and a dog chasing around his legs, the bag protectively pressed to his chest. It was crazy how much his priorities had shifted in a few hours. At lunchtime he had found it difficult to choose between beef and game and now he protected a few measly eggs with his life.

"Mentally incompetent trader, long story." He lifted the bag like a trophy as he came to a stop next to her. "Six eggs."

She gave him a skeptical look and leaned against the knife stall.

"Where have you been?"

With his thumb, he pointed over his shoulder, in the direction in which beyond the celebrations the ominous market stall could be found. The young woman inhaled with a hiss and scrunched up her nose.

"Old Iryt? You shouldn't have gone there. He's off his skull."

"Oh, really?" it burst out of Ahkmenrah, "Thanks for telling me before!"

Her jaw twitched and she looked sheepishly to the side. He crunched his eyes shut.

"I am sorry... I am tired. "

"Yes..." she muttered, "Me too."

Fleetingly, he caught her gaze. Behind all the exhaustion, he recognized overwhelming concern for her future, and he could do nothing about the uneasy feeling that spread in his stomach at the sight. Then, suddenly, a voice rang out near her, freezing the blood in his veins.

"Ahkmen?"

His eyes widened in horror. That couldn't be! Alcohol had slurred the words, but he immediately identified the speaker. An unpleasant heat shot into his head. Discreetly, he turned to see if he was mistaken; whether the sleeplessness finally had begun to haunt him with hallucinations. But no, the gods didn't do him that favor. Several steps behind them stood his best friend, slightly wavering, with a cup in hand. What in Amun's name was he doing here?! The prince turned his face to the opposite direction, willing Bek to disappear. He didn't. _That's it,_ his mind whispered, _you're done for._

"Hey, Ahkmen!" he shouted again, more convinced this time. The shuffling over sand revealed his heavy-footed approach. Wonderful, just what he needed right now!

"Is he talking to you?" Nefari inquired confused, after she, too, became aware of the young man. Ahkmenrah threw Bek a quick glance, shook his head, and tried to become invisible.

"S-," he coughed slightly when his voice broke, "since when is my name Ahkmen?"

Hopefully his smile wasn't as forced as it felt... The girl raised an eyebrow and uncertainly looked at Bek. "He's coming over, though."

"He is probably mistaking me for someone else," he lied, shrugging his shoulders. At the same time, his eyes burned into the back of the knife maker's head. How long could it take to put a new blade into a handle? Right now, the boy was busy driving a copper bolt into the wood. The prince did not know for sure whether, in his thoughts, he was pleading with the craftsman to rush, or the gods. On reflection, he didn't care either as long as someone just saved him from the inevitable.

"Ahkmen, it's me!"

 _Don't say Bek, don't say Bek, don't say Bek!_

He had told Nefari about a friend named Bek. No, in hindsight that hadn't been a particularly good idea. She would put two and two together and then ... _Then you have a lot to explain._

"His head is going to kill him tomorrow," the girl brought his attention to her and he peered the other man from the corners of his eyes. The advisor's son had dropped the cup, dousing his feet with beer in the process. Hunched over and hands propped up on his knees, he began choking. Ahkmen cursed inwardly. He couldn't help him now! If he did, that would look peculiar in the potter's eyes. Especially because within a 30-step radius there were about seven people who were struggling with nausea as well. Some more successful than others.

"Ahkmenr-"

"Your knife is ready!" he exclaimed relieved as soon as the craftsman got ready to face them. The burden of a whole shipload of stones fell from his heart when he was able to drown out his indisposed friend at the last moment. With the polite gesture of an outstretched arm, he stepped backwards. He hoped it to look like he just wanted to give her better access to the stall rather than forcing his way into her line of sight to Bek. She raised an eyebrow, whether because his unexpected volume, but then turned to the trader. In the dark, worn handle, which was probably older than Nefari herself, now stuck a blade of copper that was gleaming in the sun. The knife maker held up the bizarre composition while the young woman pushed the bowls across the table.

"Thank you," she said in the sincerest tone the prince had ever heard of her, taking the pottery tool.

"Yes, yes," the boy grumbled. "If you need help again, don't come to me!"

Over the girl's snickering, the young man almost didn't notice how his friend got the gagging under control and straightened up. Nefari turned back to the two, casting a final look at Bek that could have been either compassionate or judgmental, and gestured her head towards the pottery shop. Flooded by relief, Ahkmenrah nodded while performing a strange half-turn in order to avoid facing Bek. The young woman didn't seem to notice.

Each step that took them further away tightened his chest a little bit more. So now he had become someone who turned his back when his friend was in need. When had he began to plummet to these new depths? Before or after he'd denied his own name? He bit his lip while his fingers played with a frayed seam on the bag. The further they left the market's hubbub behind, the clearer his mind became.

He couldn't do that! He had to go back and bring Bek home. All sorts of bad things could happen to him in his state and then Ahkmenrah would never be able to forgive himself.

"Uh … Huya?" the potter asked shortly after, without looking up from the knife edge she was inspecting. He responded with an absent hum, his mind feverishly searching for a solution.

"Where do you live?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. No! Not such questions, not now! The young man hastily got himself to move again. While she didn't seem to have noticed his little dropout, it cost him a lot of concentration to continue planting one foot in front of the other.

"Where I ... live?"

She raised her shoulders and looked up to him.

"Well, I thought if you don't know old Iryt, it can't be too close."

His focus twitched to the high palace gates that towered above the middle-class houses in the distance and he just managed concealing the movement with a blink. At that very moment, an all too familiar voice echoed through the street they had barely left.

Not again!

He wasn't close enough to make out individual words, but Bek sounded far from happy. If Nefari was noticing the tumult, at least it didn't bother her. She was still looking at him intently, anticipating an answer.

"I, um ..." Carefully, he dared to look behind. Perhaps it was possible to determine the trouble his friend was in now. While the clamor got louder, though, it didn't stand out from the ambient sounds. But if you heard a voice almost daily for 18 years, you were probably particularly receptive to it. Unfortunately, the distance was already too great. He could no longer discern the counsellor's son in the hustle and bustle, especially not from the corners of his eyes.

 _Nefari is still waiting for an answer, you know…_

Right.

"I live … near the ... shipyard," his mind put together frantically. Hopefully she left it at that and didn't keep asking.

"So … Does your family work in shipbuilding?"

Of course she kept asking! Why was he getting his hopes up?

Meanwhile, Bek's calls grew louder. Louder and significantly more dissatisfied. Ahkmen now understood sundry _no_ 's and a string of swear words. It took him all his willpower to not tear his head around. He had to do something, and he had to do it now!

"Everything alright?" the girl questioned. Excellent. She was noticing his peculiar behavior.

"Yes, I... No, uh... I have to go home ... My mother, I ... I forgot that I promised to help her…"

Oh, he should bite his tongue off! Out of all the elegant excuses he could have come up with, he was only producing this nonsense. _Well done, Ahkmen._ The corners of her mouth dropped, and he instantly felt remorse. She was worried and he was lying to her good and proper.

No. Bek now, Nefari later.

"I didn't mean to-"

"I really have to go!" he interrupted, shoving the bag into her arms and noticing her twitching at his careless treatment of the fragile binder. She looked confused. And dejected. He was incredibly sorry, but he turned on his heel and ran back the path they had come. The potter called his name and he knew for certain that she wanted to ask him about returning. Just as she did every time. What he had accused her of out of frustration the other day was proven well-founded after all. She did have trust issues.

The young man shook his head and pushed onward through the crowd. There was time to reflect on this once he'd gotten his friend home safe and sound. Ra, meanwhile, had dipped below the horizon and the orange sky in the west was the only memory of him. As darkness would now settle over the city quickly, a large fire was lit in the middle of the square. Ahkmen let his gaze wander about in concern.

He was now again in front of the knife maker's stall but didn't see Bek anywhere. His calls had also died, so where was he? Asking the merchant about him was probably not a good idea. There was no way to estimate how well the boy knew Nefari from their conversation earlier. They hadn't seemed particularly close but this impression might be deceptive. And he had already enough to explain on his next visit, a connection to the mysterious drunk did not have to be added to that.

"Bek?" he shouted, straining his ears for a slurred response. But other than the laughter of a group of women in the background, he heard nothing. That couldn't be true. Had he dissolved into thin air? Walking slowly, he scanned the bustle and frequently called the name of the vanished man.

It was only when he took a closer look at the people on the mats that he recognized his friend, with one arm draped around a young woman while animatedly talking to a second one. Ahkmen breathed a sigh of relief and sprinted towards him.

"Bek!"

The man looked around clumsily, his reddened face almost surpassed the fire in brightness.

"Ahkmen! What're you doin' here?"

So he had forgotten their first encounter. It was as Nefari had predicted. His head would kill him tomorrow.

"Looking for you," the prince explained, searching for the reason of Bek's tantrum from earlier, but couldn't discover anything unusual.

"Ah, you're such a good friend. He's such a good friend," he let the two girls know, who started giggling. Ahkmenrah's sympathy for drunks fell even further.

"Ahkmen, meet my new friends." He raised his arm which was slung around the one woman's shoulders. "This is Aat."

She smiled towards the newcomer while Bek tilted his head to the other seatmate. "And this is the wonderful... um…"

"Dirashet," she helped him along, obviously affronted.

"Yes, right! Aat and Dirashet. Aren't they marvelous?" asked his friend with a telling look. Aat, meanwhile, placed her head on Bek's shoulder.

"Delightful," Ahkmenrah said dryly, "come along, I will take you home."

"Don't be such a killjoy. Sit with us. Have a drink."

Quite apart from the fact that there was no room left on the mat, the prince would rather have lit his hair on fire. He just wanted to go back to the palace. He just wanted to sleep!

"No, thank you. Let's go." He reached for the soldier's elbow so that he could support him. Contrary to his expectations, the young man actually did climb to his feet. Granted, his movements were somewhat sluggish, but he didn't put up much resistance. Aat protested when her headrest was pulled away, and Dirashet didn't seem overly excited by the growing distance to her new acquaintance either.

"Ahkmen, my friend, you're way too serious," the drunk man explained, a silly grin on his face. The two girls, meanwhile, had also stood up. Dirashet clawed her fingers into Bek's biceps and ripped him from the prince's grasp.

"What's wrong with you? Use your eyes, he wants to stay!"

Alright, that was enough! He already had one peasant who thought him to be a laughing stock, commanding him around as it suited her. He would not grant this status to another one! Ahkmenrah turned with his eyes closed before opening them and fixating the woman with his head held high.

"I suggest you do not interfere in matters that do not concern you and leave us."

The girl gasped in indignation and after an angry look at the prince she turned to his friend for help. However, if anything their banter only seemed to amuse him. He contained his laughter, but it was clearly visible how much he struggled in doing so. Having to defend herself only enraged Dirashet more. She tried making herself as tall as she could, but the alcohol had claimed a lot from her and she only reached up to the young man's chin.

"Who do you think you are?!"

He inhaled, ready to bring down a full-blown tirade on her when the soldier slapped his arm across his chest, almost as if to restrain him. Every trace of mirth had disappeared from his face.

"Let's not fight now. Ahkmen. Why don't you go looking for a quiet place with Aat and spend some time with her? That'll loosen you up."

With a force Ahkmenrah wouldn't have ascribed to him anymore, the drunk passed him the second girl. She stumbled and, fearing she might fall and hit her head, he caught her. Unfortunately, though, she mistook it for a sign of affection. Her hands crawled onto his shoulders and began an unwanted massage. Bek certainly didn't get any more of that as he was too busy with his assault of Dirashet's lips.

"Have you gone mad? May I remind you of Semat?!" Ahkmen asked furiously. He grabbed his friend's tunic and detached him from his new girlfriend, at which both ejected a sound of discontent. Taking a jerky step to the side, he managed to get rid of his own appendage as well. He mercilessly dragged the boy with him, away from the tables and mats where other people's interest in the altercation has already been piqued. Awkwardly, Bek staggered after him, followed in turn by the two women.

"Stop, let go!" he protested. His arms were flailing back and forth, looking for support in the warm air. He drove his feet into the ground, forcing Ahkmenrah to a halt. Dirashet was immediately on the spot to regain possession of the noble.

"I cannot believe it!" Ahkmenrah exclaimed and threw his arms out to the side.

"I'm jus' havin' fun. What's the big deal?"

The prince shook his head angrily.

"I thought Semat-"

"Yes, that's exactly your problem, Ahkmen. You're thinkin' too much!", he barked at him, looking very pleased with that retort for a moment. Then, however, his expression changed. His widening eyes were Ahkmenrah's only warning, but he didn't need more than that. He hastily took a step back, out of the danger zone. Right after, Bek hurled a considerable amount of his stomach contents onto the road. As the King's son felt warmth spread over his right foot, he became painfully aware that he had not distanced himself far enough. He twisted his mouth in disgust and shook his leg. There went the sandals...

"Ugh." Dirashet screwed up her nose and put some space between herself and the soldier, while Aat squeezed a hand in front of her mouth and nose. She looked like she was fighting nausea herself. Honestly, even Ahkmenrah felt a bit queasy at the noises the other young man emitted. The women shared a quick glance and took to their heels. Good, one less problem. But now he was facing a far bigger task.

The few understandable words the boy managed to utter between the retching were soaked in remorse. While the odds of Bek remembering this apology were long, the prince still decided to accept it. The vomiting was severe, but fortunately fairly short-lived. His friend soon straightened up, one hand propped against the house wall while the other swiped over his mouth and chin.

"Ahkmen?"

"Hm?"

"You've got somethin' on your foot."

"I know," he sighed exhausted, patting him on the back, "thanks for the reminder."

His friend smiled at him with a blazing red head and teary eyes, then he started to walk.

"What are you- where are you going?" Ahkmen asked, bewildered, rushing after him.

"Home."

"That is great, but home is that way," he explained, finger pointing behind him. Bek grinned his drunken grin and came back. As he weaved past, the prince got hold of his arm and put it over his shoulder. Following the sweet call of his bed, he maneuvered them both through the celebrating crowds.

At one point, he abandoned the main road for the smaller alleyways, where there were significantly fewer people around. The palace wasn't too far away, but they had to set a pretty slow pace as he feared Bek would stumble over his own feet. It was quiet between them for a long time, but Ahkmen welcomed the silence after all the racket.

"They've been arguin' again. 'Bout my brother this time."

Ahkmenrah's eyes flitted from the moon that rose between the rooftops to the man at his side.

"He accused her of Mahu not being his son." The boy laughed bitterly. "And with all the adultery the two are constantly committing... Who knows, maybe he's not even _her_ son…"

The prince frowned. Either his opposite wanted to exaggerate the situation, or his fogged mind was providing misinformation about human reproduction.

"The little one might not even be my brother."

Ahkmen snorted amused, despite the depressing conversation. Misinformation. Misinformation it was.

"Do not worry. Mahu _is_ your brother."

"How'd you know?"

" …Just a feeling."

That didn't convince him, he continued to rack his drunken brains.

"I'd ask mother, but last time I had her handprint on my face for a week."

Knowingly, Ahkmen bit his lower lip. What advice could he give? Surely everything would not fall into place. His parents hated each other since they have been married and according to Bek they showed that whenever they had the opportunity to do so. Of course not in public, Sentemsu was, after all, the highest advisor, that would have been a scandal unparalleled. Even the Pharaoh probably didn't know about it and his son wasn't sure if Bek had trusted anyone else with this information. Semat, perhaps.

Oh. That reminded him…

"You should tell Semat about your acquaintances."

The drunk raised his head, eyebrows pushed together and deep in thoughts.

"Semat?"

"Yes. About the girls earlier."

"Y'know, I think ... I think I love her."

Ahkmenrah frowned. He'd already forgotten about them. In his opinion, it was important that his friend told Semat about the incident, but if he couldn't remember… He thought it wrong to make himself the bearer of such news. Maybe he could leave it, just this once... A small mocking voice in his head reminded him that he wasn't allowed to beat with the moral cudgel anyway while bending the truth with Nefari.

"I could marry her," Bek continued to fantasize. "We could be happy. And then we could have a bunch of happy children."

"Yes, because one of you is not enough."

Bek laughed softly as they turned back onto the main road. And there, in the last daylight, the palace gates gleamed like giant lanterns that lighted them the way home. Ahkmenrah breathed a sigh of relief, shifting his friend's weight on his shoulders. He brought them to the servants' entrance, where just enough people were bustling about to keep them hidden between them. As they walked past the guards, they both lowered their eyes.

He was unsure whether Bek did so because he understood the graveness of the situation or because the alcohol took full effect, but they could pass undisturbed, so it didn't matter. Ahkmen led his friend along the escape route which he was walking far too often these days. This time, however, they took a detour across the menagerie, since the festival was also in full swing in the palace. No one in the gardens should see them coming from the side entrance. That only raised questions that would place him in a dilemma in the end.

The elephants beyond their trench seemed particularly tense today, but that was to no surprise with all the noise that passed over to them from the banquet hall. Swaying their trunks from side to side, they weren't bothered by the returnees scurrying past. Well, as far as Bek's uncoordinated steps could be described as scurrying. Unfortunately, their arrival in the gardens did not remain of such little interest to everyone.

"There they are, Hor!"

A waving, misshapen figure approached against the firelight in the distance. Ahkmenrah's tired mind took far too long to attribute it to Semat and her mane of curls. Behind her neared a second person, heavily leaning on a walking stick. Nedjenhor, obviously. When the girl reached them, she put her hands on Bek's cheeks and pulled down his face to her. The smell of wine that stuck to her revealed she wasn't quite sober either.

"We've been searching everywhere for you. Where have you been?"

Semat's brother caught up to her, every second step shaky. He held himself a bit apart, his eyes only trained on Bek. It was as if an invisible wall stopped them from wandering over to the prince.

Ahkmen loosened the grip around his friend's arm - which he seemed to want to get rid of desperately- and rolled his stiff shoulders. Now would be the perfect opportunity to tell Semat the truth. Should he do it…? Well, she was trustworthy, but the fewer people knew about his own outing, the better. And Bek couldn't remember it anyway, so why take the risk?

"I found him in the stables. He has been sleeping in the hay-"

"Semat, I love you," the soldier suddenly proclaimed. He took a step forward and literally fell into her arms. In the semi-darkness, Ahkmenrah perceived her staring at him with big eyes while helping him finding his balance. She didn't have an opportunity to answer when he pressed his mouth on hers. Somewhat bitterly, Ahkmenrah thought how about an hour ago, Dirashet had been in her place. He would most certainly appeal to Bek's conscience. Tomorrow.

"I'll get him home," the girl assured as the two separated. The prince hadn't heard sweeter words throughout the whole day. His morale, while preventing him from running straight to his chambers and locking himself in there forever, made sure to wait Semat didn't collapse under Bek's weight. She held herself fabulously. Nedjenhor propped him up on the right, despite malformed foot and walking cane.

This image of them allowed Ahkmen to finally disappear quietly. He nearly smiled as he headed for the large fire outside the dining hall, because he was almost able to feel the soft mattress of his bed. The guests, the fewest of whom he knew by name, did not pay attention as he made his way through their ranks. His legs climbed the steps to the palace virtually without effort of his own. Here, the people were by far better dressed and more fragrant than the revelers in the city, yet he felt that the mood in the marketplace was somehow... more boisterous. That impression, though, might as well have been linked to his steadily growing tiredness.

Inadvertence nearly let him run into a servant with a bread-laden plate. He only just averted the collision but caught an angry look in the process. Surprised, he looked after the boy. This was new. This was different. Why? His wit had apparently fallen prey to sleep deprivation, because he didn't notice the serious mistake he had made until it was too late.

"Oh well, look at that. Now, that is interesting attire, _Seni_."

* * *

 **See? This is exactly why you should always get enough sleep, people!**


	9. Just barely

**Hey guys. I come bearing gifts. Well, one gift :D**

 **~References~**

 **-Mesut-Aset-Heb: Birthday of Isis, celebrated on the fourth day of the Heriu-Renpet.**

 **-Seket: Guard**

 **-Neb: Lord, master**

* * *

Nefari startled from a dreamless sleep when her head slipped from her supporting hand. Confused, she blinked at the brightness that was streaming through the windows. It was morning... She had fallen asleep while working, again. A grunt escaped her as she stood from her cross-legged stance and bent her back until all the tension loosened. Ah, everything hurt! On the floor next to her, her brother was laying on his back, one arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the light. Yawning quietly, the girl stretched her arms over her head until her shoulder joints cracked. The movement drove the unwashed smell of her dress into her nose; a mixture of dirt and sweat. She twisted her mouth. It was time for her to do the laundry.

 _Everything is going to be back to normal soon_ , a voice in her head assured.

Yes, soon.

 _Unless, of course, we cannot afford to pay the taxes. Then nothing will ever be back to normal again._

Alright, great, that was unhelpful. The young woman squinted her eyes shut and combed her fingers through her hair, then shook her head. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. With quiet steps she walked out of the workshop, careful not to wake Ranheb. She figured he could sleep a moment longer while she prepared breakfast. In the hallway, Kiy emerged from under the curtain of the door, rubbing her grey-striped head against Nefari's legs. The girl laughed softly and lifted the cat onto her arm.

"I'm glad you can take care of yourself," she muttered, caressing the feline between the ears. Kiy closed her eyes and began to purr while the potter carried her into the pantry. Shifting her weight to the tip of her toes, she was about to lift the bread basket off the shelf when something else caught her attention.

On top of the box containing the blue color powder lay a small, white bundle. Her forehead wrinkled in curiosity. She gently placed Kiy on the ground and reached for the strange object. It was... It was a bandage. A real one at that, not a torn piece of clothing like the ones she used! Nefari raised her eyebrows and twisted the roll between her fingers. How did it get here? It wasn't hers. And Ranheb hadn't left the house in days. How had he come by such an evenly woven material? A thought struck her, widening her eyes. Maybe Huya had...? No... No, certainly not.

...Or had he?

When she'd caught him the other night in the hallway, where exactly had he been standing then? In front of the pantry, right? The corners of her mouth rose, and she turned around to hold the linen next to the only other bandage she had left. The two items were as different as day and night, which emphasized the question as to how Huya had gotten hold of it.

She tilted her head. The boy was strange. But, as had become apparent in the last couple of days, not in a bad way. Her smile grew wider and her eyes roamed over the symmetrically cut roll. A moment later, however, his sudden departure under this flimsy pretext came back to her mind and the grin disappeared. A nasty feeling spread in her chest and she slapped the bandage back onto the shelf.

The girl turned to the bread again, forcing the irritating event from her thoughts, and froze. Today was _Mesut-Aset-Heb_ , the birthday of Isis! With all the work she had completely forgotten! She had to bring some sort of offering to the temple, but there was neither enough bread nor enough time, for in three days was New Year, then they would come.

She compressed her lips and looked down at Kiy, who was busy creeping up on a fly that had settled on the wall. Then her gaze wandered over the doorway to the workshop, before finally sliding back to the breadbasket on the shelf.

And if she made it quick? If she took the bread that she had calculated as her own meal today? Would that be enough? Undecided, she stepped from one foot to the other. It would take a while to get to the temple and back, but her brother may not even notice her absence. And once she was back, she could work particularly fast, right? After all, she was now well rested.

Determinately, she again stood on the tip of her toes and fished for the bread. Pressing it to herself, she climbed over the cat and peered into the workshop. Ranheb was sprawled out next to the table and hadn't moved at all. She slipped through the curtain, out into the early morning shadows, crossed the courtyard, and opened the gate.

People were still celebrating, making the streets busier than on other days. However, most of those who she rushed past looked quite harried. She continued north, jogging in the opposite direction of the palace, whose colorful flags were bathing in the first sunbeams. The young woman fell into a run, the piece of bread cradled to her chest like a babe. Her bare feet pounded against the ground, kicking up sand.

Every now and then, she came by a poor soul lying in an alley, knocked off their feet by the alcohol. She pushed onward, further and further, until her chest hurt from breathing so fast. Blood roared in her ears and she watched as sun climbed higher into the sky.

Then, finally, the temple grounds of Isis rose from the dusty road. They were the smallest in the whole city, no comparison to the expansive complex of _Ipet-Sut,_ which was dedicated to several deities: mainly Amun, Mut and Khonsu. Father, mother, and son. There was no place for Isis in this triad, and since there were only few people worshipping her here, her temple was far from all the splendor, ignored by Pharaoh Merenkahre and his forefathers.

Nefari slowed her pace and calmed her heart, climbing the steps and lowering her head in reverence as she entered the colonnade. With immense regret she found that no work had yet been done on the crumbling structure. The colors that must have once been so radiant were faded or chipped, and the reliefs were breaking apart. Was Tiwa's rumor of the repair in the end really just that? A rumor? The disappointment was hard to swallow.

Only three priestesses were busying themselves in the sacrificial hall when the girl entered, but a few devotees had also strayed here to lay down offerings at the feet of the Isis statue. The fragrance of incense wafted around her as she placed the small piece of bread on a half-filled meat platter between a wine jug and a bouquet of flowers. For a short moment, it felt like everything was like it used to be. As if her mother was to reach for her hand any time now. The clear singing voices of the priestesses brought tears to her eyes, which she left there in a brief streak of sentimentality before composing herself and wiping them away. She raised her hands in prayer and, with a shaking breath, looked up at the statue of the goddess. Despite the decay, she smiled sympathetically down upon her followers.

After she finished, the girl allowed her gaze to wander over the gifts one last time, taking in the scent of a bygone time. Then she turned to leave. The singing accompanied her all the way to the street, and as it faded away she caught herself quietly humming along. Rather badly, granted, but she felt good about it. This had been the right thing to do. Hopefully, her brother would agree…

The way back seemed longer to her. Perhaps because Ra had already accomplished a fair amount of his journey and that made her more aware of the time. When she reached the main road on which the pottery shop was located, she fell into a sprint. The thought of a quick bath floated around in her head when she opened the gate, but it dissolved as soon as she saw Ranheb stepping out of the house's shadow, a frown on his face. Nefari bit the inside of her cheek and closed the door behind her. This wouldn't be a pleasant conversation.

"Where have you been?"

"In the… uh..." She took a deep breath, "In the Temple of Isis."

Her brother stared at her with mouth agape. It took him a bit to answer, but then it came all at once.

"Are you serious?! New Year's Day is getting closer and closer and you're bouncing happily through the city instead of helping?!"

"Stop yelling! It's her holiday, I had to bring her something!"

"You know, I usually don't care about the nonsense you waste your time with but how could you do something like this when we're up to our necks in it?!"

The girl clenched her teeth. She had noticed him dissociating himself from his faith for a while now, but equating praying with nonsense? Her heart burned as if it had been stung by a scorpion.

"Honestly, for someone who's always acting so sublime and infallible, that was a fucking stupid idea! We only have three days left, do you realize that?!" The potter's eyes were narrowed, and he drove his hand furiously through his hair.

"Yet here you are, spoiling for a fight!" his sister returned, stomping past him into the workshop. She heard him following as he knocked the curtain out of the way.

"Which food did you decide to throw away?"

The young woman spun around so fast that the dress swirled around her shins.

"I didn't throw anything away and you know it! Don't talk like that!" Even if she didn't like it, she recognized an echo of Huya's words in her own.

"What was it? Tell me!"

"It was my own bread, alright?"

"Pft. Do you really believe that praying will be of any use to us? It didn't help us with mother," he enumerated, "It didn't give us father back, and it certainly won't keep me from breaking my back in some quarry! Wake up, Nefari! In this world, you'll only get help if you can afford it!"

The girl stared at him with piercing fury, her jaw trembling in anger. A telltale burning spread behind her eyes, but she struggled to keep them dry while squeezing her voice past the lump in her throat.

"Don't act like I've let you down! First of all, I wasn't away for too long, and second, you've been asleep the whole time."

She looked at Ranheb's bowl that was sitting in the exact same spot as it had this morning. He snatched it away and settled down at the table.

"Blaming me. Great, that's something new!" he growled lowly, reaching for his painting stick. Its tip left a red stain on the table.

"Yes, Ranheb. You are the victim. Too bad father isn't here to side with you, right?" she spat, picking up her own bowl. Only the enduring silence made her gaze at her brother. He looked like he was about to choke on his own breath. Her eyes widened when she realized what she had said. The young man burned a hole in her heart with his hostile glare, but Nefari, too proud to take back what she'd said, lowered her eyes and rushed out of the workshop. It was only when she was sitting on the roof, arms wrapped around her knees, that she allowed the tears to fall freely.

* * *

Ahkmenrah couldn't tell whether his brother had bought his lie, despite the fact that the actor in him had peaked in performance. Who would have thought that in the end, it was to be the drunks who showed him a way out? All he'd had to do as Kahmunrah's eyes had been glaring down upon him, certain of his victory, was to look a little disoriented and slacken his pronunciation.

Of course his brother had been more than suspicious, but if someone could forget their girlfriend or fall into a drinking trough while intoxicated, Ahkmen saw no reason why he couldn't suddenly wear rags without recollection of where he'd gotten them from. He considered his mumbled observation of stones not being able to listen to music as particularly successful. Nevertheless, in the following days, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was constantly being watched. His paranoia might have been a remnant of the sleep deprivation, but knowing Kahmunrah was very capable of such a thing, he preferred to maintain a low profile.

This enforced idleness drove him crazy. It wasn't that he had nothing to do - far from it. In addition to tribunals, hours of lessons, and the recurring meetings with the temple architects, the combat training was also taking a toll on him. Until now, however, he had never cared to notice how monotonous these activities were. What worried him most was not knowing whether Nefari and Ranheb could finish their bowls without him.

He didn't know what terms him and the girl were on after his hasty departure, but under no circumstances did he want to let her down. Even the normalization of his circadian rhythm was tinged with remorse. On New Year's Eve, he had slept particularly poorly and it had had nothing to do with the festival of Sopdet that was celebrated the day before. Everything would depend on the next day, that's what they'd been working towards. The prince had to go to the pottery shop in the morning, no matter the cost. Maybe there was still time for him to help.

When he opened his eyes, he immediately could tell something wasn't right. But what was it? The realization hit him with the force of a stampeding elephant: Tem had woken him up. He was way too late, his plan had been to be back by now! Apparently, after sleep had finally found him, it had clung to him like pitch. He struggled out of the bedsheets and, in horror, witnessed Tani preparing his clothes for the day.

"May I roll up the mats?"

Ahkmenrah looked helplessly at his servant, who was already reaching for the hook. Terror spread throughout his body like a fever.

"Um…"

Tem paused immediately. In a bizarre way, his posture now resembled the painting on the wall behind him. The older man raised an eyebrow, which, combined with his ever-lowered eyelids, looked grotesque.

"I... I am not well. Please leave them."

A hint of concern became evident on the servant's face, which was astonishing considering that he wasn't normally capable of emotion.

"What ails you, your Highness? Should I send for the physician?"

The prince shook his head.

"That will not be necessary... I am sure I just need a little more rest."

Tem's smooth, detached expression did not betray whether he believed the story. Not that it made any difference, but Ahkmen wanted to tread carefully and stanch the risks in every way possible.

"But your lessons in arithmetic-"

"Will be taken up as soon as I feel able to do so," the prince interrupted, impatiently waiting to be left alone. His tone left little room for argument, and Tani already disappeared from the door before he even finished speaking. For once in his life, he was happy with her timidness. Tem, though, still unmoving, needed more convincing. Ahkmen threw him an afflicted glance to get him out of the room.

"I will let Nahim know that you are indisposed, then," he finally proclaimed and Ahkmenrah nodded. While Tem scuffed over to the exit, the King's son was itching to jump up and don his _shendyt_. It took a lot of willpower to wait until the door was closed, before bolting out of bed.

Jahi vaulted from his mat, surprised by the sudden fuss, and ran after his friend, who was already ploughing through the contents of his clothes chests, the bitter question in his head as to why in Amun's name he went to these lengths in the first place. The support he extended to the two new acquaintances was worrying.

He pushed his thoughts aside as he uncovered the sought-after kilt, pulling it out of the trunk with a triumphant yelp. Immediately, he turned around and watched the bedroom door, but everything remained silent. If anyone was still present, they had not heard him. Good.

With a haste that made his fingers tremble, he wrapped himself in the linen, almost losing his mind when he couldn't find his old sandals. Then he remembered that he'd had thrown them away after they had been so creatively decorated with Bek's half-digested meal. Not pondering over it for too long, he grabbed the least adorned pair of shoes he owned and slipped them on. The shoemaker had just finished them a month or two ago and the young man could not remember having worn them before. They weren't a satisfactory addition to his disguise.

The prince scrunched up his face as he gazed one last time at the footwear. _Hopefully, no one pays attention,_ he thought, hurrying into the washroom, always keeping an eye on the connecting door for the servants. The thought of anyone deciding to draw him a bath while he was climbing over the balustrade...

The morning air in the gardens was crisp, a most welcome change from his stuffy bedroom. Grass tickled the sides of his feet that the sole didn't cover. He could have enjoyed the feeling had he not had to think of the tax collectors and the impending danger.

At least he could pass the gates at the side entrance without difficulty. As always, he was invisible in the mayhem of the people. Soon, his heavy footfalls on the street and the pounding of his heart were the only sounds he perceived. Well, at least he had made proper use of the new shoes now...

It wasn't until he reached the festival ground that he slowed his pace. The remains of the fire in the middle of the area were smoldering and a few people were still sitting on the mats. Most had fallen asleep, some in uncomfortable positions. One man was laying backwards on a tabletop, his head dangling over one edge, his legs over the other. Shards of clay were scattered about the ground everywhere.

A handful of residents had already begun cleaning up and Ahkmen noticed that the flower garlands had been removed from several houses. Merchants who set up their stalls had also long since returned to everyday life. What a strange contrast. Some were still in a drunken stupor; others were already working as if they'd never done anything else. The prince purposefully headed for the street in which the pottery shop was located.

To his left, two men, by the resemblance of their faces father and son, were brushing a stain from their house, before the sun rose higher and burned it in there. As he turned his head, he saw a woman out of the corner of his eye.

His heart plummeted. Was that... _Tani?_

He discreetly turned to look at her, but she'd already disappeared into another street. Ahkmenrah shook his head. No, it wasn't Tani. He had just become insanely paranoid.

At the opposite end of the road, a small procession caught his attention. It was led by a man whose affluent appearance did not quite fit into the craftsmen's quarter. Six other men accompanied him, all armed with spears and shields and protected by leather armor. Two of them carried a scale, papyrus rolls and writing materials, and two others led one discouraged looking neighbor between them. The young man froze.

Tax collectors.

A cold hand clasped his throat and he continued on his way as fast as he could. Maybe they still had time. The gate of the pottery shop was hanging ajar and he dashed right through it. Suddenly, a spearhead appeared in front of his chest, causing him to plant his heels into the ground, horror-stricken. He just came to a halt without being skewered. His eyes slipped along the shaft of the weapon until they reached its bearer; a _seket_ who just seemed to be waiting for the newcomer to make a wrong move. He slowly raised his hands and backed away. The guard lowered his spear.

"Huya!"

His head shot up to Nefari who was standing in front of the house, arms crossed, and shoulders pushed forward. Her features were contorted by deep concern that made her look so much older than she actually was. On the ground in front of her sat her brother and shoved the bowls to one of the officials. He looked at them before passing them on to a guard, who in turn loaded them onto a cart that took up most of the courtyard's space.

"That is all?" the scribe asked as he handed on the last piece of ceramic, unmoved by the dark-haired boy's chaotic arrival. Skeptically, he looked from his unrolled document to Ranheb. Ahkmen could see the potter swallow and fumble with his hands.

"Yes, _Neb_..."

"Do you have any other valuables?"

The young man exchanged a portentous glance with his sister before he brought himself to answer.

"Powder of lapis lazuli and turquoise..."

While dipping his writing reed into the ink pot, the official looked at Nefari.

"Bring it here."

For a moment, she remained motionless, dismay etched into her face. Then she nodded and disappeared into the house, only to emerge with four small containers right after. She lined them up in front of the tax collector and quickly returned to her original place. The man examined the vessels filled with color pigments and added something to his manuscript. Then they, too, were stowed upon the cart. Ahkmenrah caught the girl staring helplessly at him and he bit his lip.

"How old is the donkey?" the public servant inquired eventually. Ahkmen's eyes wandered over to the shed, as he heard Nefari's brother respond with hesitance.

"I... I don't know his exact age, but our mother's parents already had him when she was a little girl."

Once more, the man wrote something down and Ranheb looked nervously to the young woman. It was surreal to see them so timid and quiet when they were otherwise such hotheads. The King's son watched Nefari peer at the scribe's papyrus with unmistakable frustration. At first, he thought that she cursed the document for its very existence, but as her eyes scurried over the characters, he quickly realized that she was trying to decipher it.

She did not succeed.

The girl couldn't read.

He had to stop himself from smacking his forehead. Of course she couldn't read. Where would she have learned it?

"I come to the conclusion that your property has a value of exactly eight and a half _deben_ ," the official finally declared. "The levies you have to pay exceed the sum by six and a half _deben_." He turned to Ranheb, whose face drained of color. Two of the guards approached him and he leapt to his feet. Nefari instinctively extended a hand to him. "You will work off the discrepancy in His Majesty's service – _ankh-udja-seneb_."

Terrified, the young man shook his head.

" _Neb_ , my sister..."

In a display of utter disinterest the scribe rolled up his document and gave the two _sekets_ a nod. Ahkmen was forced to watch in silent shock as they grabbed the potter by his shoulders. When he began struggling, they twisted his arms up his back. A tormented sound escaped him, and he bent his torso to remove the pressure from his joints.

"No, please, Nefari!"

"Ranheb!" cried the young woman, her hands clenched into fists. It was obvious she wanted to start an argument to protect her brother, but there was none. It was the law, what could she say against it? Ahkmenrah feverishly sought for a solution that would keep his secret. The tax collector ignored them and strode from the yard, indicating his helpers to take the writing material and the cart with them.

"Nefari!" Desperately, the boy tried to turn around to his sister, but the two men prevented him from doing so. She ran after them and for the first time since the prince knew her, he saw dread in her features. Cold, pure dread.

"Wait!"

Having already stepped half through the gate, the official paused and turned back, clearly fed up. Ahkmenrah squared his shoulders and stood next to Ranheb. Determined, he stripped off his shoes and held them out to the group. Two of the guards exchanged a suspicious look, then turned their attention to the scribe, who sported a dismissive smile.

"Boy, your shoes are not-"

"Yes, they are."

He jutted his chin forward and handed over the sandals, a little too much force in the movement. His opposite inspected the footwear, seemingly wanting to raise objections. But he didn't. The shoes _were_ valuable and, according to his widening eyes, he recognized it. Ahkmen was infinitely glad that Bek had not been able to keep his food down. Nefari looked as if she was considering objecting the aid, but in the end she remained silent. You really couldn't speak ill of her common sense, at least not this time. The older man eyed Ahkmenrah with unconcealed distrust, but nevertheless gave the _sekets_ a signal. Immediately, they abandoned their arrestee, who rose to groan and roll his shoulders in relief, while the scribe turned his attention to the siblings.

"Your taxes are complete," he informed curtly and left. With him, the guards also cleared out the property. After they all had disappeared, Ranheb marched to the gate and threw it shut. Then, before the King's son could even begin to think about what had happened, he had a black head of hair tucked under his nose and a pair of thin arms coiled around his torso.

"Thank you."

Surprised, Ahkmen looked down at the girl. She seemed determined to crush his ribs and he patted her slightly on the back, unsure of what else to do. Heat shot into his head and he tried to ignore it. Nefari eventually let him go and wiped a strand of hair from her forehead, which allowed him to draw normal breaths again. Her brother came over to them, his own pair of sandals dangling from his hand. With a solemn face, he placed them in front of the prince's feet and lowered his head.

"You don't have to-" Ahkmenrah protested, but when he looked at him again, the sincere expression in the man's gaze silenced him.

"Thank you, Huya."

The prince looked down at the shoes. They were woven from reeds, worn out and a thong seemed loose. This had to be the only pair Ranheb owned. Moved by the gesture, he smiled and put them on.

"Come." Nefari pointed to the house, all tension of the last days had dropped from her. "Eat with us."

His conscientiousness opposed and rushed him into going back to the palace... But he could stay for a little while, couldn't he? There was as much sand in the bread as always, but that didn't bother him now.

* * *

 _Hit. Swipe. Turn. Block._

Kahmunrah's _khopesh_ cut through the air and missed his opponent's sword hand by the width of a finger. With growing frustration, he repeated the sequence, teeth clenched tightly, only to miss the soldier again. The man was quick as a damn rat.

 _Again._

Pain exploded in the crown prince's arm when his blade hit that of his rival with full force, but he ignored it and immediately lunged again. This time he hit his mark, albeit slightly. The soldier's arm, not protected by his armor, began to bleed instantly. This threw him off his stride so much that Kahmunrah could ram a foot into his stomach. With a pained shout he went down and dazedly blinked up to the other man. The prince stood over him, breath coming in heavy puffs, the _khopesh_ pointing at his adversary's heart.

"Your Highness!"

A servant rushed up to the training ring, completely out of breath himself. The King's son gave his opponent one last contemptuous look and dropped the weapon next to his head. As he left the ground, he heard the loser's pitiful coughing behind him.

"What is it?"

"She is back," the older man wheezed.

Kahmunrah's eyebrows shot up. That was faster than expected. Well, all you needed was the right incentive. He got under way and, as he passed, took a cup from the tray of refreshments which stood under the sunscreen on the edge of the exercise ring. With three swigs, he emptied it and then handed it to a bypassing soldier.

She waited in his reception room, just as he'd told her. At least she was able to follow instructions. Apparently, she was not as incompetent as she seemed. The girl was standing next to the table as he stepped in, eyes lowered and hands folded.

"I have to admit you surprise me," he said, crossing the room. She flinched when she heard his voice. "I didn't expect you so quickly."

He settled in a chair opposite of her and watched her intently. Her hands were trembling and, trying to hide it from him, she pressed them against her body.

"What can you tell me?"

"I- I did not leave his side, just as you asked, your Highness... This morning, when he was awakened, he insisted to be left alone. He said he wasn't feeling well... I hid and saw how he disguised himself and climbed over the balcony. After that, he entered the city through the servant's gate ..."

Oh, that was a revelation. Kahmunrah impatiently waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Annoyed, he leaned back in the chair.

"And? Where did he go?"

"I ... was able to follow him all the way to the craftsmen's quarter... after... after that I lost sight of him," she explained tentatively, her voice quietening gradually. The shaking of her hands increased.

"You did _what?"_ he burst out and she screwed her eyes shut. The prince took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Was there anyone he has been talking to?"

"No… No, your Highness. I don't think so."

He put his elbows on the armrests and folded his fingers in front of his mouth. What was his dear brother aiming for? What business did he have in the city? It had to be important for the infallible _favorite son_ to resort to lying. A grin crept onto Kahmunrah's face. This could get interesting. The young woman was still shuddering as if she had spent a night in the desert.

"Go," he waved her away. "He must not get suspicious when he comes back."

She swallowed hard and remained rooted on the spot. Her jaw quivered for quite a while before she spoke.

"How is my sister?"

Ugh, that was what this was about. How touching. The corners of his mouth climbed higher and he pushed himself from his seat, before slowly approaching her. By the twitching of her legs he could tell she almost gave in to the urge to run away.

"Tani. Did I not assure you I had an eye on her?"

The girl's shoulders grew tighter and she wiped her hands on her dress, her gaze pinned to her toes.

"May I talk to her?"

"Ah, but that would distract you from your task. And we would not want that now, would we?" He lowered his head and looked at her pervasively. She seemed to shrink under his gaze.

"...No..." she whispered, choking on this one little word.

"That is what I thought. So, go." Kahmunrah stood upright and she bowed hastily before downright fleeing from him. "Oh, and Tani?" He watched as she paused and reluctantly turned back. "Do not be this negligent ever again. I know my forbearance seems limitless, but it is not."

She nodded and disappeared out of the door as quickly as she could. The crown prince grinned after her and took an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. Some unexpected changes lay ahead of them, it appeared.

* * *

 **Wow, look at that. Ahk's paranoia is justified. And who would've expected Bek's puking to prove so relevant?**

 **Anyways, I hope you're having a great summer :)**


	10. Of carob, litters, and nasty surprises

**Aaaand it contiues :)**

 **~References~**

 **-Rekhy: Friend**

 **-Upet: Headdress**

 **-Ihes: Bastard**

 **-Ibib: Sweetheart, darling**

 **-Inhu tjemes: Dirty rat. But fun fact: the Egyptians put their nouns before their adjectives, so it's actually 'rat dirty'.**

* * *

"Something has occurred between you and Ranheb, has it not?"

Ahkmenrah sat on the reed mat and wiggled his toes in the new, wonderfully inconspicuous sandals. Around him, he and Nefari had set up the pottery produced in the new year's first week. The girl stopped with the praises of her goods, raised her head and looked at him. A strange shadow flitted across her eyes.

"Why would you think that?"

He lifted a skeptical brow. The siblings had barely interacted with each other recently, even after their outburst in front of the tax collectors. Considering they were usually bickering like dockworkers, there had to be something wrong.

"I happen to have a pair of fully functioning eyes."

Quietly, she blew air out of her nose and began playing with the leather strap that held her braid together. She glanced down at the jug next to her feet and he saw her chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then she sighed in defeat.

"We got into a fight. On the birthday of Isis."

Ahkmen waited for her to continue, which she did, albeit hesitantly.

"He insulted the gods and... Well... I then said something about our father…"

She emitted a sound he had trouble identifying. The prince wanted to know what else she had to say, but at the same time he felt it wasn't right to interrogate her.

"So, you both made a mistake," he concluded, "and now you are too stubborn to admit it."

"I'm not stubborn!"

The young man tilted his head and gave her a look.

"Yes, right. _You_ are the epitome of compliance."

A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, which, unfortunately, only lingered there for the blink of an eye before disappearing again. With her fingers, she followed the pattern of her braid while a wrinkle formed at the bridge of her nose. When she peered at him, he must have had a pretty clear expression on his face, for she immediately rolled her eyes.

"You think I should apologize to him."

Ahkmenrah smiled. What gift the innate persuasion of a prince was.

"Well, you have only one brother and he has only one sister. I think you should not waste your time arguing, else you end up like Kahm-" He bit his tongue. "...Ka and me. And someone has to make the first step."

Nefari looked him in the eye, then on her hands as she pondered his words. The young man could literally see the mechanisms of her mind starting to move. Ha. And all that without having to memorize a single text. Oh, if only Nahim could see...

 _If Nahim could see, that would be your doom._

Ah, yes.

"You're probably right," she sighed after a while, pulling him out of his thoughts. He couldn't suppress a smug grin.

"Tell me something I don't know."

For a moment she looked surprised, then she smiled.

"Alright. You've been running around with a stain on your skin all morning."

The girl outstretched her hand and pointed at his sternum. He lowered his head only to instantly regret it. She pulled up her finger and flicked it against his chin and nose. He screwed his eyes shut while she burst out laughing. How had he not seen that coming? That had been Kah's favorite pastime!

"Hilarious," he let her know with a false, tight-lipped grin.

" _Tell me something I don't know_ ," she echoed with arched brow. In the dark brown of her eyes danced a challenging gleam and she seemed incredibly content with herself. She was so immersed in her small victory that she only realized him reaching out for her braid when it was already too late, and he had brushed over her face with the curled hair-ends.

"Hey!"

"What do they say about pride and falling?" he laughed, catching her hand as she tried to slap his forehead. Scanning it, his features grew more serious. In his own fingers, hers looked tiny. Fragile. With these she had helped him up the slope the other day? That now seemed impossible to him.

He tilted his head and found her gaze fixated on him. Her entire face gleamed with joy, causing him to swallow thickly. How had he ever deemed her unremarkable? She awkwardly looked at her hand and he became aware that he was still holding it. He quickly let go and cleared his throat, but a stocky man stepped in front of the mat before he could say anything.

Judging by his dark beard and long hair, he was either a traveller or he simply did not own a razor. The young woman quickly straightened while trying to make a serious impression.

"Welcome, _Neb_. What are you looking for?"

The stranger bent down and picked up a jug with a black, jagged pattern. After examining all sides, he flipped it upside down to look at the bottom also.

"I'll give you three carob pods for it," he finally proclaimed, looking back and forth between the girl and her companion. Nefari mulled it over and nodded.

"Agreed."

The buyer smiled, held the jug by the handle and fished around his pocket with the other hand. When he found what he was looking for, he held a bundle of curved, brown husks out to Ahkmenrah, who furrowed his brows in doubt as he inspected them. These were certainly the smallest pods he had ever seen. Not that he had been around an extraordinary number of carob pods in his life, but still...

"Not very large," he stated without taking his eyes off the stranger and passed the bundle on to the young woman. The man's dissatisfied gaze followed the carob but when he noticed that he was being watched, he tried to smooth his face. The dark-haired girl nodded, coming to the same conclusion.

"He's right. At that size, I'd like three more, please."

With visible reluctance in his movements, he complied and threw the rest of the husks into Nefari's lap. Then he turned around and walked away without saying another word. The king's son watched him leave.

"Nice try, _rekhy_ ," he muttered before facing the potter. There suddenly was a serious expression etched to her features that caught him off guard. In the way she stared, her eyes seemed too big for her face. Warily, he leaned back.

"What?"

For a short time, she remained silent, apparently unsure whether she should really express her thoughts aloud, then she moistened her lips.

"Why are you still helping me?"

The young man frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Her gaze became insistent to the point that he felt she would rip his soul out through his eyes if he didn't look away.

"The damage you caused with the pots was already worked off after the holidays. And in addition, you gave up your shoes for us..."

Realization dawned on him. His chest felt as if a snake was coiling inside it, looking for a way out. The girl was right, there was no legitimate reason for his continued visits and support.

"Don't you dare pity us!"

Ahkmenrah blinked.

That sounded plausible. That was how it had to be! The snake was still trying to break free, but now that he had made this groundbreaking discovery it was much easier to ignore.

"I would never," he answered, making a great effort to sound convincing. With an expression that put the lie to him, she shifted her weight and tucked her legs under.

"Then you're here because you enjoy being a stand-in potter so much?", she asked sharply.

"Listen: Do you want my help or not?"

Nefari opened her mouth; her jaw twitched a few times before a sentence came out. All the while her irritation grew.

"I do. But I also want to know why you haven't already run for the hills!"

"Because you still need my help, that's why!"

His words hung heavily in the silence that followed. Even the lively sounds of the marketplace seemed to quieten all of a sudden. She looked as if she was searching for the meaning in his words, as if he had spoken in a foreign language. Her eyes burned with incomprehension until she hesitantly turned her gaze away and plunged deeper into the windings of her thoughts. He sighed, rose and dusted off his _shendyt_.

"My... um… father is waiting for me. I have to go."

This brought her absent mind back, although it seemed as if she didn't trust her voice, so she resorted to nodding. With his feet tingling, he stepped out of his nest of ceramics, very careful not to knock anything over. One pottery drama a month was more than enough.

"Bye, Nefari," he said over his shoulder. She looked at him, silent surprise still carved into her face. Oh Amun, no! Now he had broken her.

"Thank you," she finally uttered as he was just about to turn away. Ahkmenrah couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was, but something in her tone didn't sit well with him. The disarming astonishment, the barely concealed doubt? As if she didn't allow herself to believe that he was really just trying to help. The snake inside him squirmed and writhed and he tried to fight the demon by throwing her an assuring smile before he walked away. Until he disappeared behind a jeweler's stand, he felt her eyes digging into his back. Lost in thought, he bit his lower lip between his teeth.

* * *

After just barely escaping his latest encounter with his brother unscathed and his little 'illness' also almost costing his head, Ahkmenrah had gone over to hiding his fine clothes in the gardens when he went to the city. Returning home, all he had to do was put a colorful, longer _shendyt_ over the short one, don a _wesekh_ and it looked like he had never left. It was a foolproof approach and he now doubted his imputability for not proceeding like this from the beginning.

Next to a large tamarisk whose branches swept the ground, he squatted down and shoved his hand between the foliage. Somewhere here he had deposited his garments. The twigs prickled and scratched his skin and he breathed a sigh of relief when his fingertips finally glided over the hidden linen. With practiced moves, he wrapped the kilt around himself, tightened the belt and clasped the collar around his neck. Having to do it himself was a cumbersome matter. It felt like he was dislocating his shoulders. Very regal. He smiled mockingly and used the shelter of the trees to get to the dining hall unseen. Although he did not have the best of experiences with this route in the recent past, he was able to get to his chambers fairly quickly from there. Not for the first time he cursed his balcony for being located too high up to reach from the ground.

In hindsight, the approaching voices should probably have caught his attention right then and there, but he was so eager to arrive in his study in time, he completely blocked them out. It wasn't until he followed the path around a hedge that he noticed them. He cursed inwardly when he saw his mother and her entourage across the bushes and turned around stealthily. Much as he enjoyed her presence, this was abysmal timing. Unfortunately, though, she begged to differ.

"Ahkmen," it echoed over the roses. Her tone made it clear that she had closely observed his failed retreat. He cursed again, squeezing his lips into a thin line, then forced an expressionless, neutral mask onto his face and walked towards the Queen. The jewelry she was wearing shone so brightly in Ra's rays that he was worried for his eyesight.

"Good morning, mother," he muttered, bowing his head, weakening her stern expression.

"There you are. Your servants are looking for you."

Ahkmenrah stared at her bewildered, his eyebrows twisted.

"Why?"

"You are expected in the Temple of Isis."

Oh.

 _Oh!_

 _The inspection with the architects was today!_ Please, no! He ground his teeth and fought against the muscles that worked to contort his face. Everything seemed to go horribly wrong as of late!

"I will leave immediately," he promised and was about to bow again. She grasped his shoulder, stopping him.

"I am headed in the same direction. Maybe you would like to accompany me?"

In other words, she wanted to make sure he didn't slink away again. The young man rubbed the back of his head, his mind racing in search of an excuse. He desperately needed to make a detour to his rooms to get rid of the second _shendyt_. Under no circumstances did he want to spend the whole day in several layers of clothing. He would be roasted like a lizard on a hot rock.

"Oh, I would love to, but-" Her dark eyes bored into his green ones, rendering the prospect of death by heat stroke not so unattractive. He coughed softly and added: "...I will because I... would never want to disappoint you."

She gave him a satisfied smile and put a hand on his cheek before turning to her maidservants and ordering one of them to have Ahkmenrah's litter prepared. The woman bowed and hurried off.

"Tell me, how is the work progressing?" the Queen inquired as they started walking again. Ahkmen recalled all the points he had discussed during the last meeting with the architects. He himself had not yet entered the temple, so he had no choice but to rely on their information.

"Apparently some of the supporting columns are in danger of collapsing, the walls have to be re-plastered, the floor slabs are uneven and some of the statues are missing limbs."

She nodded, causing the golden pearls to rattle that were intertwined in her wig into intricate patterns. The two circled a pond on which a few ducks had settled between blue lotus flowers, dunking their heads into the water every now and then.

"It is a tedious endeavor," she noted.

That it was. The prince was certain no maintenance work had been carried out for several hundred years. Moreover, the temple was located in one of the poorer districts of the city, so it could not finance itself through offerings. Lastly, it was frequented by only a few people.

Well, now it was time to change the disastrous state of affairs, and Ahkmenrah could not suppress the streak of pride he felt about his father entrusting him with this task. A smile formed on his lips, but then a thought came to him that obscured it. He cautiously glanced over his shoulder and saw that the distance to the following servants was big enough for his next question.

"Is father feeling better?"

She looked him directly in the eye, but although he had acquired a keen perception over the years, he could not discern any reaction that would have revealed her feelings.

"He will join us for dinner tonight," she promised cheerfully. Ahkmenrah thoughtfully scrunched up his forehead and looked over a planting of pomegranate trees, to the temple complex of _Ipet-Sut_.

"His coughing fits have been increasing lately. He should see the physician."

His mother hummed in agreement and smiled.

"He will."

Her smile was somewhat repugnant to him, but before he was able to deepen the thought, she changed the subject.

"Where have you been anyway that no one could find you?"

He should have expected this question! _Think of something, Ahkmen..._

"I… have been checking on Khem. His leg is almost healed..."

He released his breath, but her eyebrows got caught in each other and it now occurred to him again that he had wanted to avoid this topic in her presence. The prince had just put a cheetah on her prey, and she went right in for the kill.

"I hope you drew your lesson from the incident. An injured horse leg is the least evil that could happen to you at these hazardous speeds."

The young man concealed a good-natured eye-roll and refrained from remembering her that the stray stone didn't have anything to do with his velocity.

"Please, do not worry about that anymore."

A quiet sigh, soaked in protest, escaped her throat, but she posed no further objections. Silence returned as they reached the courtyard. There was already a small crowd waiting for them. Well, for Ahkmenrah at least. Next to his litter, four guards were lined up, clad in leather armor and _upet_ , all of them armed.

They were joined by four carriers, Tani and, of course, Tem. The latter seemed more exhausted and closer to toppling over than usual. This could probably be affiliated to the fact that he had been looking for the prince all morning. He felt a little bit of pity at the notion. Even from the distance, Ahkmen could see the older man exhaling with relief as his gaze fell onto the prince. All right, he felt _great_ pity...

Approaching the group, he bid goodbye to Shepseheret. She rejoined her maids as he climbed into the litter. The bands of the curtains were released from their hold and the fabric fell down the frame. At least this way, he wouldn't have to endure the stares with which the people always tried to dismantle the contraption in order to figure out its proprietor.

The prince grabbed the seat to keep his balance as the men hoisted the carrying chair onto their shoulders. They needed a moment to settle the poles in the right place, then they started moving. Ahkmenrah's concerns proofed well-founded after only a short while: Wearing two _shendyts_ on top of each other was not a good idea.

* * *

"... and the hippopotamuses destroyed the entire field. Everything! I tell you, his brother warned him about exactly that. 'Keseb,' he said, 'watch the field'. But Keseb thought he knew better. Well, and now they have nothing left. Of course, neither of them hoarded anything away. How could they have? They are hardly able to pay the taxes. Anyway, what I actually wanted to say: Keseb's wife is cheating on him," Tiwa concluded one of her horribly extensive stories.

Nefari was still sitting on her mat, convinced that at this point there was blood dripping from her ears. Shortly after Huya had made his farewells, her friend had found her and since then she had been talking without taking a breath.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Tiwa repeated, "Didn't you listen to me? _Keseb's wife is cheating on him_."

The potter brushed a strand of hair out of her face, but it fell back immediately.

"Yes, I understood that the first time. Tragic."

Her friend shook her head so violently that her embroidered headband slipped out of position, but she was too excited to pay attention to it.

"You don't get what I mean!" She knelt in front of her opposite and grabbed her by the arms before shaking her vigorously. Nefari pushed her away in annoyance. "My goodness, woman, do I have to spell it out for you? If Keseb learns about it, he will get divorced!"

"Good for him." The girl continued her fight against the hair strand absently.

"He will get himself a new wife."

"Aha."

"That could be _you!_ "

Nefari looked up to the seamstress, her eyes wide. Her hand hovered beside her hair before slowly sinking into her lap. She hadn't thought of the boy in ages. The other girl still radiated an excitement that was almost physically palpable, but the potter huffed and shook her head.

"I'm not going to marry Keseb."

Some of Tiwa's overzealousness ebbed away and her grin disappeared.

"I thought you liked him..."

"That was so long ago… Besides, you have just said yourself that he is unreliable and unreasonable."

Something in the other woman's face changed and suddenly she exhibited a hint of arrogance.

"Well... I'm sorry to break it to you, but you can't really afford to be picky. You don't have any considerable possessions, you don't have an influential name, and you aren't getting younger either."

The girl's face went blank and she angrily clenched her teeth until it felt like she was crushing them between her jaws. The anger at her friend thickened in the farthest corner of her mind and swept over her like a sandstorm, leaving her shrouded in darkness.

"Listen, Tiwa! You can't even imagine how I-"

A commotion on the main road that led to the market place cut her off. Children came running down the street, shouting and waving, but the dark-haired woman couldn't make out exact words. People were attracted by the unrest like moths were by light, and soon dozens lined the side of the road.

"What's going on?"

Rather than answering, Nefari unbent to catch a glimpse at what was carving its way across the market. The seamstress didn't think twice either. However, she decided to shove herself through the crowd to get closer to the action. This event had to be a gold mine for her and her gossip. At some distance, the girl was eventually able to distinguish a box pushing through the hustle and bustle.

No, not a box.

A litter.

With a frame of polished, gold-decked wood and bright curtains that obscured even the slightest hint of its owner. As far as the girl could tell, the whole thing had four strong men supporting it, moving in perfect unison. A handful of other figures accompanied the chair, unified by red-and-white _upets_ that bobbed up and down in the crowd.

Wait, these headdresses... Weren't that-

"Royal guards!" a boy called out behind her. He had scaled the roofing of a stall for better view, provoking the merchant below to chase him away now.

He was right, though. Whoever sat inside the litter came from the palace and was important enough for an escort at that. The potter's mouth set into a hard line. This display of opulence was downright disgusting. She was surprised this procession was not preceded by musicians and flower girls. Her anger flared up as she watched people being pushed back harshly to clear the path for the high-born nuisance.

Ranheb's bitter words resonated in her head, and she indeed couldn't help but see a certain truth in them. _In this world, you'll only get help if you can afford it…_

The train proceeded north and the cluster of people slowly dissipated. Some followed the litter to find out who had been sitting in it – Nefari would have bet her right hand that Tiwa was among them – but most resumed their day-to-day business.

She spent the rest of the day in the market square and had to listen with growing irritation as people tattled and rumored and gossiped viciously. And the identity of the person varied greatly depending on whom was asked. Once it had been a scribe of the granaries, another time the high priest of Amun. Sometimes they had carried the secret lover of the Pharaoh, sometimes one of his sons.

Common to all stories was the destination of the group, the Temple of Isis, which the guards had cordoned off immediately. Either the high-ranking guest wanted to pray alone and in silence, or Tiwa's rumor had been right in the end and they finally began to restore the temple.

As the afternoon drew to a close and Nefari had to fight growing headaches, she collected her pots, rolled up the mat and loaded everything onto the donkey cart. Pepy followed her home through the emptying streets. The shadows grew longer, and the light that was still fighting against them turned red when it lost the battle.

Her thoughts were raging, simultaneously making an apology for her brother and taking apart Tiwa's disparaging words, but a group of three figures appeared next to a house wall in front of her and made her forget everything. Her head slumped in annoyance. Today had been such a busy day, why couldn't she be spared this encounter?

One of the men tapped his friend on the shoulder when he recognized her and pointed a finger in her direction. The other turned around, his mouth contorting into a malicious grin. He pushed himself off the wall and approached her. Reluctantly, she continued until she reached the group.

Of course, the first taunt was not long in coming.

"How's Ranheb's face?"

Djadhu's voice was so soaked in complacency, he should have been choking on it. She gritted her teeth to keep quiet, but her anger managed to overwhelm her nonetheless.

"Still better looking than yours, to be honest."

That wiped the grin from his face, and she felt a surge of pride. His cronies snickered, but he was quick to silence them with a warning glance. She shook her head and led Pepy past the bunch, the wheels of the cart set in motion in squeaky protest.

"Oh, Nefari-"

"Leave me alone, Djadhu!" she exclaimed in anger. "I don't have time for this."

Out of nowhere, the donkey abruptly screamed and made such a large leap to the side that the drawbar of the cart creacked menacingly. Before she could turn to him, she felt huge fingers digging into her shoulder and yanking her backwards. Her back collided with the wood of the vehicle and a dull pain exploded in her lower spine.

Dazed, she opened her eyes, only to see the man towering over her. He braced his arms on the cart right and left of her and forced her further onto the loading area. A wave of fear crashed over her like the Nile's flood.

"That's no way you talk to your friends."

The young woman swallowed her trepidation, jutted her chin out and ignored the rising disgust as she closed some of the distance between them.

"Get off and leave me alone, _ihes_!"

Faster than she could comprehend, he had a hand clamped around the neckline of her dress and ripped her forward with it. The hem of the fabric cut into her neck and although she made every effort not to show any weakness, a pained sound escaped her. She began to fight back, clawing her nails into his arm, but he didn't even blink.

"You know, _ibib_ , your brother had a similar attitude before we roughed him up. Eventually though, he wasn't quite as mouthy anymore. Maybe we should try that with you as well."

He turned to his companions, who both looked very expectant, and she fought even more fiercely. Ah, it was of no use, she couldn't free herself!

 _Do not panic. If you panic, you cannot think straight._

The impulse that sounded astonishingly like Huya was right. She exhaled a trembling breath and gave up her resistance. She indeed managed to straighten up a little. That was all she needed.

"Djadhu, tell me one thing: Do you plan on having children?"

The sudden change of topic seemed to surprise him, but his appalling grin quickly returned. His grip loosened.

"Why, do you want to start a family now? Here?"

She shook her head.

"By all the gods, no. I'm just making sure I'm crushing the right dreams."

He had barely time to look at her confused, then she slammed her heels onto his toes. A startled cry of agony filled the evening air and all his attention focused on his injured foot. The girl made short work of driving her knee between his legs as hard as she was able to.

In the same instance, she slapped his supporting left arm out from under him. He let go of her dress, lost his balance, slammed face-first into the wooden edge of the cart's load area, and came to lie on the ground, curled into a ball.

An unexpected, but no less welcome turn of events. His two friends stared back and forth between him and the young woman, reluctant to do anything to her without his word. Neither clever nor loyal, but she wouldn't complain.

" _Inhu... tjemes!"_ The injured man struggled to breathe, and her gaze slid down to him. A string of bloodied saliva stretched from the corner of his mouth to the dusty ground. He sounded close to tears. "You'll... regret that ..."

"No, Djadhu! If you ever come near my brother or me again, you will be the one to regret!"

She did not wait for an answer but reached for Pepy's lead rope with shaking fingers, clutching it tightly so that no one could see her trembling. None of the three men said a word when she turned around, only Djadhu's tormented groans could be heard. Her back protested as she moved, a bruise was probably already forming there.

Nefari's jaw tightened as she attempted to set one foot before the other evenly. This wayward spawn wouldn't get the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her. It was only when she was out of sight that she let her tense shoulders fall forward, immediately inhaling sharply.

Don't. Move. The back.

Her journey home dragged on and on, as it now only consisted of tiny steps. When the gate finally came into view, she sighed and tried to open it without straining her back too much. It wasn't working out the way she had hoped. Eventually, a tan hand appeared in front of her eyes and pulled the gate inwards.

"What are you doing?" Her brother gave her a skeptical look, his tone was still distant. She just stood there, taking him in, nothing but empty rustling in her head. Almost like wind blowing through a ruin. After a long silence, she found her tongue, but when the words rose in her throat, so did the tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry for what I said," she told him, choking up. Ranheb stared at her, dumbfounded, before extending his arms in alarm. She stumbled right into them and clung to him; her face buried at his shoulder. Her eye make-up surely smearing into his tunic, but at the moment she didn't care. He smelled of clay and the kiln and so wonderfully familiar of _home_.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, terrified. Apparently, neither her tense posture nor her flinching escaped him when he tried to hug her back.

"I met Djadhu," she explained to his shoulder. He pulled away, held her by her arms and looked at her pervasively.

"Did he hurt you?"

She shrugged, but even that send a jolt through her back.

"Not as much as I hurt him."

Ranheb's face hardened, and Nefari quickly continued before he worked himself up into a frenzy.

"He pushed me over the cart," she wiped away the silent tears that trailed down her cheeks, "but I made sure he couldn't father any children."

Although even a blind man could have still recognized the anger in his eyes, his mouth squeezed into a line of grim satisfaction.

"The bastard had it coming for a long time."

She nodded, lost in thought, and he carefully put a hand between her shoulder blades to guide her into the house. Uncertainly, she looked back

"Wait, the cart…"

The disapproving side glance he threw her was almost enough to smite her.

"Did you knock your head too? Get in!"

Oh, had she sounded like that the other day when she had patched him up? As complacent as he looked at her now, probably. She nibbled at her lower lip and waddled around the curtain her brother held up for her.

"But I'm serious. I'm really sorry for what I said during _Mesut-Aset-Heb_."

"Me too," he assured, cautiously patting her arm. Huya had indeed been right. A smile crept onto her face. She couldn't let him know that, obviously, otherwise his boasting would never stop. Her brother intruded her thoughts as he hastily sprinted up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked, confused, and watched as he disappeared into her bedroom. Right afterwards, he reappeared at the head of the steps, her sleeping mat rolled up under his arm.

"We'll be celebrating the next Festival of Sopdet before you get up the stairs."

"Ranheb, that's really not necessary."

Ignoring her protest, he walked past her, then picked out a spot next to the door and swept aside a few small stones with his hand. Then he rolled out the mat and pointed to it.

"Lie down."

The girl slouched and winced right away.

"If I get chewed up by any bugs tonight, it's your fault."

Satisfaction lit up his face when she trudged into the workshop and settled awkwardly on her new sleeping place. Her brother left the house, which caused her to sit up again. Of course, that still didn't give her the ability to look around corners. He didn't want to go after Djadhu now, did he? Numbly, she called after him.

"I'm making dinner," it echoed back to her, and she dropped her face onto the mat in exhaustion.


	11. Abysses

**Hello good people :)** **I have no translations today, but there are a few explanations on the gods at the end of this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

If Nefari ever caught sight of Djadhu again, she would rip his stupid head off. He would never escape her rage! As it turned out, his little stunt had contused her spine and for the next few days she could not move. _At all_. Whenever she tried, a thousand knives stabbed her back... one thousand and one if you counted Ranheb's glare.

She was condemned to lie on her mat in the workshop and stare either into the hallway or at her brother when he was working next to her. The only thing she could do was curse her tormentor with all the imprecations she knew, and that, too, quickly lost its entertainment. She spent four days in this state until a small improvement finally became noticeable on the fifth. From the sixth day onward it got distinctively better, but Ranheb compelled her to rest even longer, much to her dismay.

It was on the eleventh day that she opened her eyes to quiet murmuring filling the room. In front of her appeared the low table, at which two figures were working. She rubbed sleep from her eyes, blinked and recognized her brother's back. Opposite to him sat Huya, fiddling with a wooden stick and a clay beaker.

The warm light that streamed through the windows softened his features, which... looked quite handsome… actually... His lower lip was tucked between his teeth and the crease above his nose betrayed his concentration. Nefari caught herself staring and, unfortunately, was not the only one. His eyes sprung from his workpiece and pierced hers.

"Look who has risen from the dead," he smiled, setting his cup on the table. She quickly looked to the ground and yawned to distract herself from the heat shooting into her face. Ranheb's taking notice of her at his comment was just what she needed.

"How long did I sleep for?"

"You can hardly call that a nap. It's way past noon."

"What?" She struggled into a sitting position and turned her head towards the window. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Oh, because you looked adorable." Her brother pinched her cheek and she pushed him away. "How's your back doing?" he asked a little more seriously. Nefari straightened up properly and tested with a few movements to what extent the bruise was restricting her.

"There's still a twinge, but only if I contort too much."

Both men shared a doubtful look, then glanced down at the girl who rolled her eyes. It was nice that they didn't go for each other's throats anymore, but she would have been able to live without these know-all-gazes.

"Are you hungry?" Ranheb lowered his pitcher to the table and was about to get up before his sister could even answer him. She, however, sprang to her feet faster and pushed him back down by the shoulder, determined to return to normality.

"It's alright, let me," she insisted. Protest bubbled up in him, it was clearly visible, so she added: "I'm better, really." He didn't seem particularly convinced, but when she stepped out of the workshop, she struggled to show how unrestricted she could move.

The contents of the pantry had shrunk enormously in every respect. The food in the baskets and jugs came to an end, as did the ground paint for the clay. There was half a loaf of bread left and her stomach begged her to take it and stuff it into her mouth in one chunk, but she only tore off a piece and put the rest back. Chewing away, she returned to the others, took a seat at the head of the table, and watched Kiy rub her head against Huya's back before the feline settled in his lap, purring happily. A smile spread across his face and he began to caress her grey-striped fur, lost in thought.

"You do know that you have to stay like this for the rest of your life, don't you?"

He hummed in agreement, not even raising his head, obviously completely content with the prospect. While Nefari, now smiling herself, tried to enjoy the little piece of bread for as long as possible. Ranheb, meanwhile, descended into the cellar, only to climb out with a face that could have soured milk.

"What's wrong?" His sister chewed on the last bite and swallowed. Huya threw her a quizzical look until he realized she wasn't talking to him at all. Following her gaze, he turned around to also face the epitome of bad mood.

"There's no clay left," the young man explained, already halfway to the yard, probably to harness the donkey.

"Ranheb, wait... Wait!" The girl leapt to her feet, which in hindsight might not have been the best idea. Luckily, the pain didn't last and she managed to keep a straight face when the potter's head reappeared in the door.

"I can go for the clay."

Her brother came back into the room and leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"That's _such_ a stupid idea."

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry, I got this." Having slept half of the day, she could at least now do something useful. Apart from that, she had been lying on this mat for so long that she would have done anything just to finally leave the house.

"Want to come?" she asked Huya, without thinking about it. He had remained suspiciously silent, having dropped his work in favor of Kiy's petting. His head lifted, but the emotion twisting his mouth was certainly not enthusiasm.

"Is this a serious question that gives me the power of decision, or are you going to force me no matter what I say?"

The girl couldn't resist a grin.

"What do you think?"

He huffed and looked at her. At some point, his eyes became rigid and his face expressionless. Her heart began to flutter in her chest like a bird in a cage. It wasn't until she wanted to ask him what he was doing that she realized he had lost focus while thinking. Unfortunately, the realization did not affect the bird. It continued to flutter around until he took the green gaze from her, sighed, and got up.

"I will regret this," he muttered, more to himself than to the siblings. Ranheb was apparently still not convinced by Nefari's idea, so she pushed past him before he began to list 'good reasons' why she should stay inside. If he could run around with bruised bones after a few days of rest, though, so could she.

It was wonderful to finally feel Ras's warmth again. She stopped in front of the house and looked up to the sky, which the god shared with a few wisps of clouds. The grains of sand under Huya's shoes crunched as he walked up to her and the girl looked down to them fleetingly. He was still wearing Ranheb's sandals and she was reminded of what he had done for them on New Year's Day. What he was doing for them even now.

Since they knew each other, he had done nothing but helped her – if one overlooked the debacle with the broken ceramics – and he had never asked for anything in return. And what had she done for him? Mocked him and forced him to work and...

But no, this wasn't a contest.

She would be there for him if he needed her help, that was beyond all question. It was just that he had never asked her for a favor. Strictly speaking, she didn't even know that much about him. He had a brother named Ka who hated his guts and he lived near the shipyard. His family worked in shipbuilding. That was all. Not a satisfactory amount of information for someone she had become acquainted with weeks ago.

Maybe she should put Tiwa on him, she would quickly find out everything that there was to know... But Nefari still had things to straighten out with the other woman since she had accused her of leading her life wrongly the other day.

"What is so interesting about that spot?" Huya interrupted her thoughts. She looked up in surprise and noticed her eager helper was already holding up the drawbar of the cart. Grinning, he pointed to the floor beside her, where her gaze had just been stuck. Small wrinkles formed in the corners of her eyes and she shrugged her shoulders with a smile.

"Nothing... I was just thinking."

He made an exaggerated gesture to the heavens, to which she good-naturedly shook her head. The blood in her face felt like it was boiling now. Pepy came trotting to her when she lifted the crossbars of his enclosure from the mounting. The young woman took the rope off the hook, tied it around him and led him out of the shadow of the sycamore. Huya threw the leather strap that was attached to the drawbar over his back and tied another around his chest.

The potter reached for the guide rope and her companion opened the gate with a few practiced movements. She steered the vehicle through the narrow opening and waited in the street for him to follow. For a little while, they quietly wound their way through the hustle and bustle of the workers, but a question weighed heavily on her mind.

"Where have you been this past week?"

"Why? Did you miss me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she smiled. "That would be absurd."

Bantering for a while, they left the paved roads behind; the density of the houses around them thinned as they edged their way to Waset's outskirts.

"Seriously though," she revisited her original question, from which he had skillfully distanced himself, only straining her curiosity further. "Where have you been?"

"Contrary to what you like to think, I have a life outside of the pottery shop," he told her with his eyebrow arched. His tone, though still joking, had gained frustration.

"Well, that's pretty obvious, you know, with you not being there and all. Come on, is it too secret to tell me? Is it confidential boat builder knowledge?"

He laughed and bit his lower lip before realizing she wasn't conceding. Eventually, he exhaled loudly.

"Fine, since you won't give it any rest: My... uh... father... has entrusted me with an important project."

Smiling broadly, she turned to face him.

"That's great! Why didn't you tell me sooner? What is it?"

"A repair..."

She waited for him to continue, but he rather gave his attention to two herons gliding across the sky. Just as well. Maybe he really wasn't allowed to talk about it and there was a code of conduct among boat builders. The two reached the outskirts of the city and fought their way through bravely, at what Huya looked as if he'd prefer to take a different path. Of course she could understand that, the stench here was awful. However, the further they advanced into unpopulated areas, the more he relaxed.

The riverbank had shifted inland in several places, and in the shallow waters of the river's edge, tiny hills protruded like islands. Unfortunately, a bit of the path that lay in front of them was now also part of the floodplain and the two were soon splashing through ankle-deep water. Nefari felt mud being squeezed between her toes as she walked and decided she wasn't particularly fond of the feeling.

After a while, she noticed that the donkey was slowing down until he finally stopped altogether. With strained braying, he braced himself against his harness a few times, which made the cart tremble, but didn't otherwise move it in the slightest. He fearfully treaded on the spot, his hooves making sucking noises in the soft ground.

"No!"

"Please tell me that this is not what I think," the young man appealed, eyes closed in demoralization. His companion chewed on the inside of her cheek, let her gaze wander over the vehicle, and finally squatted down next to one of the wheels to feel it underwater. It was mired in a good cubit of muddy, softened ground. Puffing, she leaned on her knees and straightened up. Her anxious silence was enough of an answer, and Huya gave off an annoyed groan. It would have been easier for her to process it if he hadn't predicted an unpleasant turn of their little adventure from the start.

"Wonderful."

Confused, she looked around. Even during Hapi's arrival, the path had always been passable in recent years, so what had changed? Her eyes got caught by a knee-high wall that had been raised in front of a field to their left, and the reason for their misery became clear at one stroke.

"They changed the course of the channel over there."

The green-eyed boy followed her finger pointing with furrowed brows until he, too, recognized the obstacle. Nefari shared his displeasure, but it was clear that they would not be able to get any further if they stopped there and bemoaned their circumstances. Interestingly enough, he seemed to have the same thought, because he started pushing the cart, just when she took Pepi's rope and tried to coax the animal into pulling again. Though he fought with all his strength, he wasn't able to set the wheels in motion. Depressed, the girl grabbed the wooden planks of the loading area and pulled as hard as she could. A sharp pain shot down her back and she had to bite back a wail.

"This..." the young man grunted after a while of fruitless effort from the back of the cart, the muscles of his arms straining to the breaking point, "is not working."

"Ngh." She shook the vehicle one last time in frustration, but it moved neither forward nor backward. Finally, she gave up, bent over and folded her arms on the loading area, before dropping her head onto them.

"And what now? Has this ever happened to you?"

"No," she muttered against the wood before facing him. "Any suggestions?"

The young man squeezed his lips together and leaned against the cart, his gaze fell to the ground. Slight confidence spread in Nefari's chest. He had a smart mind, he would come up with a solution, right? Now, the more time passed, the more she doubted it. Eventually, he exhaled heavily, shook his head and shrugged a shoulder.

"Wait and hope that someone comes by?"

She grimaced but didn't have a better idea either. So, she eventually nodded, praying in silence for not having to spend the night in the fields. After a short deliberation, she turned to Pepy to release him from the straps, causing Huya to give her an uncomprehending look.

"We're not going anywhere right now. He doesn't have to stay harnessed."

She fastened the lead rope to the cart, which allowed the animal at least a little more freedom, then climbed onto the carriage and settled on its low border, supporting her forearms on her knees.

"So..." She threw the braid over her shoulder and looked down at Huya. Her mouth became dry when she noticed how close she was to him. "How... uh... are things with your brother?"

The dumbfounded stare he gave her made her want to take back the words, but given that she couldn't travel through time, she just raised her hands.

"Alright, I just wanted to make conversation. We can say nothing to each other if that is what you like."

His face relaxed and he looked into the distance, over to the west bank of the river.

"He is probably feeling terribly disadvantaged at this moment... I don't know, I have not spoken to him for a while."

"But you live under the same roof, don't you?"

"We do not pay much attention to each other."

The girl hummed thoughtfully and looked at his eyes from the side; they shone like gold in the low sun. She very much envied him for their color. With her own eyes that would never work, dark as they were.

"Doesn't that upset your mother?" she asked cautiously. Of course, she could be wrong, he had barely told anything about her, but if she herself had only two sons who were waging war against each other like Ra and Apep, she would not be able to fall asleep with sorrow. The young man crossed his arms tighter and let his gaze wander over her face.

"Probably..."

He bit his lower lip and sank into his thoughts. Sighing, Nefari began to play with her fingers. Why did he speak so rarely of his family? It was as if one only had to think the word and his mouth locked with a thousand seals.

 _How would you like to be questioned about your parents?_

"Who is Keseb?" the boy suddenly asked. Her head shot up and she couldn't help feeling caught.

"How do you-"

"Your brother." The gloomy expression on his features was wiped away and he grinned interested. First Tiwa and now Huya Why did everyone suddenly show such an interest in the farmer? She closed her eyes and remained silent, but that didn't change his curiosity.

"You wanted to talk. Now talk: Who is Keseb?"

"You two are worse than old washerwomen."

"And you are avoiding the question."

"Fine. Keseb is someone I've known since I was little. A fool."

The young man narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth still pulled up when he came behind.

"You liked him."

She shrugged and found that the mud on her feet was drying in the sun and began to crumble. Grateful she could divert her attention from him, she began picking at the small dirt lumps. She was so terribly hot, it seemed to her as if his looks were burning arrows.

"Doesn't matter now. He got married and I have a pottery shop and a block head that I have to take care of."

Her gaze wandered down to him and a smile began to ensnare her lips.

"Two block heads, actually. Your _shendyt_ got stuck to the cart."

He twisted his back and looked behind him, before carefully distancing himself from the wood and fumbling for the splinter which the fabric had got caught on. The girl reached up and freed her companion to shorten the spectacle.

"What a heartwarming story," he said, but she couldn't decide whether he was serious or making fun of her.

"Oh, so you've never been in love?"

"Not like that, no," he replied, without looking away or even blinking, still in a good mood. The back of Nefari's neck began to tingle and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Apparently, the bird from earlier had turned into a frenzied bull, that now wanted nothing more than to trample down the fence that held him captive. She swallowed and took a deep breath. Unfortunately, though, all that did accomplish was inhaling a full nose of _him_.

It was very unusual, his scent. There was no trace of wood or stream water, as would have been expected of a boat builder. No, Huya smelled clean and of cardamom and cinnamon, which went straight to her head. His face also seemed much closer than it should have been.

"Um..." she croaked, her throat suddenly dried out.

"T-then again..." he muttered, while his eyes detached from hers to flit a little lower. For her, these words now sounded contextless, her head was about to float away.

 _This is such a bad idea_ , her mind told her, like a mother admonishing her child not to go too deep into the water. Nefari, however, felt that she had long since lost the ground under her feet and was now being carried away by the current.

 _Don't do that!_

 _No!_

 _Stop, you'll regret it!_

With all the ruckus that her head made, she almost didn't hear the quiet whispering of her heart.

 _And if not?_

* * *

 _You are condemning both of you! Don't do that! This is the worst decision of your life!_

He could hardly object. Few things in this universe were absolute: children grew into adults, Ra went through the _Duat_ every night and returned back to the sky in the morning, and princes did not kiss potters.

Still, for the worst decision of his life, it felt so right. Was that a possibility? Could the right decision be a bad one, or was that a contradiction in itself?

As his thoughts thundered through his head like an angry sandstorm, time stood still, and he felt like he could watch the girl for all eternity. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, and her breath was fanning over his face.

His innards were tingling. Before he met her, he would never have looked at her twice. She had few of the ideals for which the women at court fought so hard, with her dull hair, her scrawny figure, and her bold eyebrows. No, but she was much more beautiful in her own way.

No costly make-up, no extravagant dresses, no heavy wig.

Just herself.

He closed his eyes. His heart shattered his ribcage and burst from his body, soaring into the sky like Horus as he felt her lips gently brushing his. It was just a tinge of contact, barely discernable had his whole being not been focused on it.

"Huya..." she whispered, and he sensed her slipping off the cart. Flustered, he lifted his eyelids. Her eyes stared at him so wide and round that he could see his reflection in them, the dilated pupils just as dark as her iris. She seemed anxious, panicked even.

Oh no... What had he done? He took a step back, his head finally clear.

"Excuse me, I did not mean to-"

"No!" She pointed at something behind him. "There!"

He whipped around and it didn't take long for him to realize what had scared her. At first, there was only some splashing to be heard, but soon the thicket near the shore broke apart, reeds and papyrus bend to the ground, and a colossal hippopotamus dragged itself out. Its thick, grey skin was littered with white scars and birds had settled on its back, picking around in them. Tusks projected like daggers from its enormous jaw. It spotted them instantly, stopped and emitted deep, grunting sounds.

Ahkmenrah stood rooted to the spot, his stomach plunged down into his sandals. He did not dare to breathe. The stories his father had told him about his hippo hunts had always seemed extremely exciting to him. Now, however, with one of these huge animals no twenty steps away, he suddenly saw them in a different light.

From the corner of his vision, he noticed the color drain from Nefari's face; her gaze darting about in a frenzy. For several agonizingly long moments, the two remained motionless, pleading to all the gods that the beast was not bothered by them and simply walked past.

It didn't.

Instead, it threw open its mouth, roared to pierce marrow and bone, and launched its massive body forward. The birds dashed away in terror as it began bursting through the shallow water.

"Run!" Ahkmen heard himself shout, already maneuvering around the cart. The girl was right behind him. Mud splashed up their legs; sprinting with the loose sandals on the soft ground was getting increasingly difficult. Suddenly, she glanced over her shoulder, set her jaw, and reversed abruptly.

"What are you doing? Do you want to die?!" Stumbling around, he watched her heading for Pepy.

The woman had lost her mind! That was the only explanation for her deliberately running into an angry hippo's way, just so she could untie a _donkey_ from the cart. In case the previous events had not made it abundantly clear to him, at least by the time he followed her example and turned around he knew his own mental condition was not in the best shape either.

As soon as the girl reached the vehicle, she outstretched her trembling hands and began yanking around the knot. In his mind's eye, he already envisioned himself carrying her mauled body back to her brother…

"Agh!" she cried in frustration, wrenching at the rope and driving his dark thoughts away. Pepy had by now understood the seriousness of the situation and was jumping around the girl braying, exacerbating her ludicrous work even more. He constantly pulled the tether to a different angle and her fingers had to follow. The ground shook violently under the trampling and the monster was within spitting distance now. Ahkmenrah could already see the small cracks and thin hairs on its skin.

Sprinting with the last of his strength, he reached the potter and shoved her to the side, but it was too late: in a deafening bang the hippo collided with the cart, which burst as if it had been built from nothing more than a few dry branches. Wooden planks and shards were hurled through the air, water and mud splashed in all directions, and the collision would have carried the prince off his feet had it not been for Nefari's supporting arm. Pepy let out a bloodcurdling scream that didn't give the young man much hope he would get out of the encounter alive. Next to him, the girl choked up, staring in horror at the debris. Her knees twitched as if she wanted to run back, but Ahkmen pulled her with him further away.

"Huya, no!"

She clawed at his hand and tried to remove it from her arm.

"Leave him!" he squeezed through clenched teeth and forced himself to run faster, the roaring of the raging animal echoing in his head. The very least thing he had expected now was the brown flash he saw disappearing from the corners of his eyes.

He allowed himself a hasty turn of the head and recognized Pepy galloping off in the opposite direction. The rope was still bound around his neck and it was also still attached to a plank of the cart, but since it had been broken during the collision, he now only dragged a splinter behind him. The hippopotamus trampled after him, downstream.

Ahkmenrah was left with the warm hope that this distraction would help them get away unscathed, but he did not allow the feeling to settle. First, they had to put enough distance between themselves and the beast. If it decided Pepi was too fast, it could still change its mind and hunt them down instead. At that moment, he decided to never, under any circumstances, _ever_ upset Taweret.

The air was rushing through his lungs so rapidly, they were in danger of catching fire. His legs also burned terribly, and he began to lose the feeling in his feet from their hammering across the ground. Nefari next to him couldn't take much more. She sounded like a flute that had all its finger holes covered but was still blown into with high pressure. She would collapse if he dragged her any further. He let go of her arm and she immediately slowed down before folding over, hands on her knees.

"I have to go back," she gasped, her voice shaking. "Pepy. I have to... I-I must-"

"Nefari." He stood in front of her, breathing heavily himself, and placed his hands on her narrow shoulders. She raised her head to look at him. "If you go back now, it will be your death."

"But-"

The young man shook his head vehemently.

"It is still there, I assure you."

"But he ran in the wrong direction... away... away from the city... I would have... had I... just a moment longer... the knot would have loosened-"

"A moment longer and it would have smashed your backbone instead of the wood," he inserted between the fragments of her sentences, before she managed to work herself up again. "He knows the road to the clay pit. Maybe he will find the way back home on his own."

Did he completely believe that theory? No, certainly not, but it was at least a possibility and there was nothing he wouldn't have told her to stir her from her resolve. Her forehead wrinkled heavily, and she looked back the way they had come from.

"He has to. Otherwise-" her voice cracked. "Otherwise we're done for."

* * *

Oh, what a terrible mess this was! Ahkmenrah raked his hand through his hair as he rushed home through _Waset's_ streets, his desperation steadily growing. The donkey was gone, the cart broken, and he had almost kissed the girl! Of course, that event hadn't come up for discussion after their most recent disaster, but sooner or later it had to!

Amun, what had he been thinking? How could he have let that happen? He wasn't some rash little boy! He hadn't even been aware that he had that kind of feelings for her at all.

 _Don't fool yourself. Of course you knew! Why else do you think you sneaked out of the palace for weeks by hook or crook?_

Ugh! The situation had been confused from the beginning, with all the lies he had served her up, but he had just made everything a thousand times worse. Where did he go from there?

' _Nefari? My actual name is Ahkmenrah. And I am the prince. Surprise.'_

Yes, _that_ was a good idea. She would shred him to pieces, as Seth had done with Osiris. And then his parents would put him back together only so they themselves could kill him again!

No, no one could know about the whole issue. Above all, it would put her in even greater trouble than him! He should just forget about her. That would be the sensible solution. The solution a prince should strive for. Ahkmen had had to make many decisions in life his heart had disagreed with. What was one more?

Even now, just thinking about it, his chest tightened painfully. How could it have come so far without him even noticing? At first, he had thought her insolent and annoying. Slowly but surely, he had obtained a new picture of her. Now he knew that she was caring, obliging and kind-hearted... _and_ insolent and annoying.

And - what perhaps had contributed most to this awry stage of affairs - she wasn't afraid of him. To her, he was just an ordinary boy, and that's how she treated him. While he initially felt it was in profound need of getting used to, he had to admit that it was actually enjoyable now. She liked him for _who_ he was and not for _what_ he was.

He had maneuvered himself into the most hopeless situation he had ever been in, and his thoughts had gotten nowhere when he finally passed the servants' entrance. The sun had already set, and the plants of the gardens were shrouded by dusk. Only the occasional torch at the edge of the paved paths illuminated the increasing darkness. Silently, he crept through the twilight and stopped only at the hiding place of his second _shendyt_. He couldn't afford any more mistakes now.

The protesting call of a hoopoe above him and vigorous fluttering almost scared him to death. That would be his typical luck: escaping the 8,000-pound hippopotamus just to have his soul sighed out by a tiny bird.

He reached the tamarisk, heart hammering rapidly. It surely had performed more today than in the remaining 18 years of his life combined. By now, he also reached the point where he felt the exhaustion creeping into his limbs, so he impatiently groped between the tree's branches for his clothes. When he found and donned everything, he turned around to make his way to the dining room but was faced by a pair of dark eyes. A startled shout escaped him, and he quickly had to bite down on his lip to keep quiet.

It was Bek.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" the prince snapped. "What are you doing here, sneaking around in the dark?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Where have you been all day?"

In the gloom, Ahkmenrah detected his friend pulling his brows together; his arms were crossed in front of his chest. Why, after all the catastrophes the day had brought, did this have to happen now? The King's son faintly cleared his throat.

"I was in the menagerie... With the elephants."

Bek stared at him with anger seething in his eyes.

"No, you were not. I saw you coming from the servants' entrance. Tell me the truth, Ahkmen."

The truth. A sudden, bitter laugh threatened to make its way out of his throat. The truth was the last thing he could tell.

 _But he is your best friend, is he not? He won't tell anyone._

No! He had already caused enough harm with his behavior, he could, under no circumstances, drag Bek in, too…

 _If not him, whom else?_

The boy looked at his opposite inconclusively, his jaw twitching a few times, but he could not bring the words over his lips.

"For heaven's sake, come out with it," the soldier demanded. "It cannot be that bad."

"You must never tell anyone."

"All right." He brushed it off with a derogatory hand gesture.

"Seriously, Bek. Not a single word!"

Only then did his friend seem to understand the importance of Ahkmenrah's next words, and he nodded, his mouth a straight line. The prince took a deep breath.

"I have been to the city."

The silence that spread between them after this sentence also affected their environment. No more breeze wafted through the plants around, no nightingale made another sound.

"All by yourself?" asked Bek. Ahkmen nodded and blinked in amazement when his friend only raised a sluggish shoulder. "Not your best idea, but you are still alive, so..." His eyes narrowed. "Wait, there is more to it, right?"

The boy clearly knew him too well... Ahkmenrah swallowed and shifted from one foot to the other.

"I... um... I kind of met a girl."

Bek stood there, thunderstruck, before a grin spread over his face until it almost split in two.

"Well, well, well, would you look at that. Good little Ahkmenrah breaking the rules."

"Yes, great, such a joyous day. When you are finished imitating my brother, can we get out of here?" he questioned, signaling with his head to the path and continuing to walk. The soldier followed him, still grinning conspiratorially. At the pace they set, they were soon at a level with the temple grounds.

"And?" the voice of the other man rang out behind him.

"And what?"

"What is her name, what does she do, where does she live, when is the wedding? Did you already f-?"

"Nothing against your interest in my life, but do you really think now is the appropriate time to discuss these matters?"

"No." There was an audible grin in his answer. "But you know me all your life. Have I ever waited for the appropriate time?"

Ahkmen stopped abruptly and outstretched his arm, which his companion ran into.

"What is it-?"

"Sh!" he hissed.

Hadn't he just heard muttering? He listened harder into the night, his eyes trained on the colonnade that connected the palace and _Ipet-Sut_. There it was again! You could also clearly hear the sound of expensive sandals shuffling over stone. The prince looked to the side and recognized concern between the shadows that the nearest torch threw on Bek's features.

"Quick, behind that!" the vizier's son urged, taking cover behind a hedge not far from the massive pillars. Ahkmenrah attributed his swift responsiveness to his military training but did not waste any more time thinking about it and followed suit. Squatting down, he just managed to not stumble over his own _shendyt._ When he looked up, Bek was so close, their noses were almost touching, and the other man wiggled his eyebrows. The prince raised a hand and flicked his forehead. Bek wanted to strike out and take revenge but paused when two figures appeared between the pillars.

"... coughing up blood. I have seen that many times."

Ahkmenrah froze. It was Henet-Setep, the physician.

"Is there no cure?" inquired a second voice, it sounded much younger. He suspected it to be the apprentice, but he had never heard him speak before, so he couldn't be sure.

"I gave him the juice of a colocynth, but that only helps against the symptoms, not the disease," the old man muttered somberly. "The demons that have befallen him are strong."

"But... but he is a God."

The doctor sighed deeply, and as he continued sounded as if he had been already wandering this earth for centuries.

"That did not save Osiris either, my boy."

Upset, the apprentice gasped for air.

"Does he know...?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"A few months."

Ahkmenrah stared into space. It might have been utter horror distorting Bek's face in the distance, but he couldn't see exactly. Gradually, the soldier blurred before his eyes. He was faintly aware of how the two medical men passed by and moved on. His stomach revolted. A huge lump formed in his throat. He couldn't breathe.

 _His father was dying._

* * *

 **Phew, that was a lot at once… Anyway, here are the explanations:**

 **Hapi: Both the god of and the term for the Nile's flood.**

 **Ra and Apep: Every night, when Ra passes the entrance of the underworld in his solar barque, Apep attacks him and they fight.**

 **Taweret: Patron goddess of pregnant women and mothers. She is depicted as a hippo with a crocodile-like head, crocodile tail and lion arms and legs.**

 **Seth and Osiris: Ahk was touching on the Osiris myth here. In one extremely shredded (heh, pun intended), summarized version, it goes as follows: Osiris was the king, but his brother, Seth, wanted the throne. So, Seth used a trick to lure Osiris into a wooden box, locked him in there and threw the whole thing into the Nile. Isis went looking for her husband and eventually found him waaaay downriver in Byblos (in what is now Lebanon). Seth learned this, went there, and stole the coffin to chop Osiris' body into 14 pieces and then distribute them across the country. Isis actually managed to find all but one (which was swallowed by a fish and she had to recreate it. Unfortunately, that was exactly the part she needed to make little Horus. Well, it worked anyway) and Anubis helped her to put the pieces back together by wrapping them in bandages. And thus, the first mummy was created. Ta-da.**


	12. The fixed and the broken

**Happy 2020 everyone! I hope you had a good start to the new year. There are two new chapters today, one of which is a glossary for the Egyptian words and explanations that I will update regularly.**

 **~References~**

 **-Ta-seti: Nubia, a region in central Sudan. The literal translation of Ta-seti is 'Land of the bow'**

 **-Electrum: An alloy of gold and silver.**

 **-Upet: Headdress**

 **Also, fun fact: Egyptians actually did paint their nails with henna (if they could afford it).**

* * *

"Ahkmenrah, I am proud of you," Merenkahre said smiling, a very rare occurrence these days. Despite his best efforts however, the prince wasn't able to reciprocate the smile. All he did manage was _not_ to scowl. He had aspired his father's approval for as long as he could remember and, in fact, had never lacked it, but after Henet-Seteps revelation he couldn't conceive joy at the praise. It was as if he were being fed cakes that crumbled to dust in his mouth.

"I do my best," he heard his insubstantial voice echo through the dining hall. His mother raised a hand to his chin, and from the corners of his eyes he could see her painted nails.

"And the work on the temple is progressing excellently."

She sounded so happy he felt even more terrible for avoiding her gaze. It was exactly one week ago that he and Bek had overheard the doctor's conversation in the gardens. A week in which he had been strangely numb. Still, he figured the numbness was better than constantly fighting tears, so he wouldn't complain. As for Nefari, he hadn't seen her in all that time, and while he did believe that his chest ached at the notion, the prick of sensation was not sharp enough to pierce the heaviness that had weighed him down. He quietly picked a grape from his plate and put it in his mouth, fervently hoping the topic of conversation would be directed toward something other than himself.

" _I,_ today pried a confession out of the thieves who broke into the granaries," Kahmunrah rose to speak, much to Ahkmen's relief. A grin pulled at the corners of the crown prince's mouth as he stared his brother down triumphantly. Isetamun, who had been unusually quiet all evening, put a hand on his shoulder.

"How wonderful."

The younger man gently blew air out of his nose. Iset's affectation regarding Kah was as dispensable as the ignition of a lamp in broad daylight. They had no other female relatives in their family. It had stood firm for years that the two would be married once Kah became Pharaoh... No one could dispute her position as Queen.

"This is wonderful news," Shepseheret affirmed, giving her eldest son an endorsing look.

"Indeed."

Their father didn't sound as enthusiastic as his wife, but Kahmunrah still squared his shoulders, determined to bask in any compliment he could get.

"How did you judge them?" Iset asked far too cheerfully, causing Ahkmenrah to quickly swallow. He was certain Kah's answer involved violence and blood and he knew he couldn't force anymore food past the disgust he already felt.

"I ordered their noses and ears cut off, then I had them buried alive and their families sent to the gold mines of _Ta-seti_."

Their cousin clapped her hands in delight, while the young prince saw their parents share a look he couldn't quite interpret. He turned his attention back to his plate. A harsh punishment for a few sacks of grain, but Ahkmen wasn't in the mood to philosophize about it now. Two seats away from him, the King, yet again, began coughing slightly until he had to fight a full-blown fit. Ahkmenrah gritted his teeth but dared not look at him.

It was only when wet pulp squeezed through his fingers that he realized he had crushed some of the grapes in his tension. No one had observed his little mishap; the whole room was far too busy with trying, unsuccessfully, to glance at his father unnoticed. Even the servants next to the pillars around them couldn't avert their gazes.

"Maybe you should go take an airing," Shepseheret muttered calmly. The Pharaoh turned his reddened face to her, his teary eyes narrowed. She, on the other hand, met his look even more urgently, which eventually led him to exhale and nod. Her persuasiveness was remarkable, frightening almost. Merenkahre braced himself against the table and clambered out of the seat, succeeding only with great difficulty. Two of his bodyguards approached to quietly offer him support, but he ignored their attempts to help, even shoving his wife's hand away.

"Ahkmenrah," he panted instead. The prince flinched as if struck across the face and turned to his father timidly. "Come, join me."

Motionless he regarded the king's empty, gilded chair, and then him who stood beside it. He couldn't be alone with his father. All those walls he had erected around him over the past week would collapse. But Merenkahre's gaze was firmly fixed on him. Ahkmen swallowed and rose too, his chair scraping quietly over the smooth limestone floor. Unsure whether the Pharaoh required his assistance, he remained inactive at first, though it quickly became clear that he did not need any help. Overall the only thing that still testified to his illness was his heavy breathing.

They moved away from the table and headed for the side of the room that opened into the gardens. Kahmunrah watched them leave, his mouth a grim line. Silent, even steps behind them revealed at least three following guards. Ahkmenrah had always been intimidated by these _sekets_ , especially as a child. Since he had never seen them laugh that probably wasn't a surprise either. Well, at least they kept their distance.

As they reached the stairs, the young man heard his mother reprimand the servants who apparently had 'forgotten their tasks through all the gaping'. The evening air was clear and fresh, and Merenkahre took a deep breath. His son feared it would throw him into another coughing, but nothing happened. Ahkmen turned his gaze off his father and instead surveyed the haze that rose from the lush vegetation at their feet. In the last rays of the sun, it looked as if golden beings saw off the day with a slow dance. Descending the steps, the boy kept an eye on Merenkahre in case he had to lean onto him.

"I would appreciate it if you could refrain from looking at me like that," the King declared, his voice still raucous. Ahkmenrah's eyes shot straight back ahead while he tried to sound casual.

"How do I look at you?"

"As if you feared I could drop dead at any moment."

The boy remained silent and watched his counterpart's eyes grow larger before a wrinkle appeared between his brows.

"So you do know."

Ahkmenrah was nothing if not a rational thinking person. For him, there hadn't been any doubt that the physician was wrong with his diagnosis of the disease. Subconsciously, he had probably already suspected it when he'd discovered the first blood stain on the napkin all those weeks ago. However, when his father did not deny the thesis, he understood how much he had secretly and contrary to logic hoped that it was a huge error.

"…Only if it is true."

Instead of answering, the king looked at him silently, and it was this silence that finally swept the stupor off Ahkmen's body. What followed, however, was a much more horrible ordeal. A knife stabbed through the heart couldn't hurt any worse. The prince wanted to say something, but not one word came out of his constricted throat. His eyes began to burn suspiciously and he kept his gaze on the ships that were sailing in the distance to distract himself.

"How do you know?"

It took a moment before he trusted his voice again.

"I heard the physician talk about it."

"Did you tell anyone?" the older man wanted to know, his attitude, as always, more pharaonic than paternal. His son shook his head before recalling the events of that fateful evening.

"But Bek was there with me."

Too late came to his mind that he might have just put his friend into a situation that could potentially end in high treason. The King, however, nodded in acceptance. He apparently had a trust in the soldier that was based on his own collaboration with his father.

"Does mother know?"

A sad smile tugged at Merenkahre's lips.

"She was the first to suspect it."

Ahkmenrah found it increasingly difficult to withstand the pressure behind his eyes.

"Father, I-"

But before he could finish speaking he was pulled into a determined embrace. In an embrace that he had experienced five, maybe six times over the course of his life. Without him being able to do anything about it, the tears began to run down his cheeks.

* * *

Of course, it was _Ahkmenrah_ who accompanied their father on a walk through the gardens. The favorite son. The prodigy. Who else? He, who excelled so enormously in his academic work. He, who spoke six foreign languages. He, whose skill with bow and arrow was second to none, probably even _without_ hands. He had been gifted a team with the finest horses before he could even walk properly. The palace was bursting with murals that testified to his exploits.

You couldn't turn anywhere without seeing his _precious little face!_ In the chapel that the King had added to the temple grounds, Ahkmenrah's statue even was as tall as his brother's. Whether foreign and domestic, he solved all political problems presented to him in the blink of an eye. And on top of that it was _his_ golden tablet which was to outwit death and give eternal life! Of course, it had to be crafted after _his_ birth, no one should ever have to live without _him_ again!

 _Please just don't mind Kahmunrah, he is only the crown prince! The heir to the throne. The future Pharaoh. You can overlook him! Oh no, that's fine. Who could spot him in the shadow cast by Ahkmenrah's enormous head, anyway?_

Granted, maybe he shouldn't have tried to put the scorpion in the baby's bed at the time... But desperate times called for desperate measures and that had been the best idea his nine-year-old mind could come up with. He just shouldn't have get caught by the wet-nurse. Once again, he wondered where he would stand today, had his little sister Tasherit not died in the cot. Had the three brothers before Ahkmenrah not been stillbirths. Would he now be treated with the respect that was due to him? Yes, he was sure. The golden son was just a trial of the gods to see how much humiliation Kahmunrah could bear.

The elder prince stomped furiously through the corridors after his mother had more or less disbanded dinner. His appearance was obviously so frightening that the servants literally fled from him. The misfortunates who didn't manage in time ducked their heads and tried to look as small as possible. When he arrived at his chambers, the guards were already holding the doors for him and he rushed straight inside.

In his fury, he thrust his foot into one of the high-legged incense bowls next to the entrance and, with grim satisfaction, heard it go down with a brazen _clank_. The smoldering resin scattered over a considerable area, and it wasn't until he let his gaze wander over the chaos that he realized he had company. In the middle of the room, next to the table, stood his little spy. Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips pressed together, as if she was expecting him to storm over and tear off her limbs.

The prince regained his composure, squared his shoulders and brushed over his tunic before moderately approaching her. She flinched subconsciously the closer he got. How adorable.

"I hope you are bringing me good news. For your sake."

The servant nodded, barely visible, as he came to a halt in front of her and opened her eyes, only to look down to her bare feet.

"And what is it? Out with it, I am not in the mood for games!"

Kahmunrah would have never expected what happened next. Instead of answering, the girl jutted out her chin and looked firmly into his eyes.

"I-I'd like to see my sister first."

Well, some might have seen unspeakable courage in this rebellion, the prince didn't though. In his opinion, it was a mixture of massive stupidity and suicidal tendencies that had led her to open her mouth. The man's initial disbelief quickly subsided, leaving the field for a grin. At that moment, she seemed to become aware of her mistake.

"Tani. I am afraid you are misunderstanding the arrangement we are in here. Let me make it clear to you." He went over to the impressive arsenal of weapons mounted on the wall. With one practiced grip, he took a _khopesh_ of electrum and twirled the hilt in his hand. The sunlight falling over the balcony was reflected by the sharp blade like a warning as he pointed it at himself. Tapping its tip against his chest, he strolled back to her.

" _I_ am the crown prince. This means -let me explain it to you- that one day I will become Pharaoh. If you now take my father's advanced age and rapidly deteriorating health into account, we can expect this event in the coming decade." He reached her and placed the blade under her chin to lift it. " _You_ are a little girl whose neck will not withstand a sword blow better than that of any other. I chose you to aid me because you serve my brother, but he has a dozen more of your kind. That is why you are replaceable."

When she began to tremble uncontrollably, he took the sword from her throat and let his fingers wander over the hieroglyphics engraved in the metal, promising the bearer of the weapon a thousand victories.

"Unless the weight of your head is too heavy for you and you want me to fix the problem, I suggest from now we both do what _I_ say. Surely your sister would also welcome it if I did not have to hold her liable for your missteps."

Tani nodded so violently that she risked a concussion and Kahmunrah knew she would never raise the bothersome subject again.

"Good. Now tell me what I want to hear."

"It's a girl," she whispered, before figuring out he barely understood her and hurrying to continue louder. "He's meeting a girl. In the city."

At first, the prince thought he had misheard her words. A girl. A girl in the city. This behavior did not sound like his brother at all. Until... Yes, until he deepened the image. Ahkmenrah skipping his lessons to be with his beloved. Ahkmenrah in a worn-out _shendyt_ , making excuses. Ahkmenrah feigning illness. The sneer on the man's face became more gleeful.

So, the prince of hearts had found a little peasant princess. Wasn't that touching? In his head was just blossoming the right idea as to how he could use this knowledge for himself. It was time to make some changes in their parents' relations to their favorite and his brother dear would be able to play an active part in it.

"What is her name?"

The servant swallowed.

"N-Nefari."

* * *

Telling Ranheb of the wrecked cart and the missing donkey had not been easy. He did not openly admit he blamed her for the mess, but he didn't have to. She knew exactly what he was thinking: if she hadn't insisted on fetching the clay herself... if she hadn't wanted to prove something, none of this would have happened. Of course, the siblings had searched the surrounding area for Pepy the next morning, but he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. They hadn't even been able to retrieve the cart. All parts that were big enough for reuse had already been taken by someone else.

Huya hadn't shown his face either. He'd left immediately after delivering her to the pottery shop. They hadn't said one word about what had happened between them and Nefari had never before been so confused. Was she in love with him? Love was a strong term. She knew she liked him… _very much so…_ and with them nearly kissing it was clear that he felt the same way about her. At least she thought he did. But then she got the impression that he regretted the matter. The fact that he hadn't visited her again after the ordeal only reinforced her suspicion.

The girl shook her head. It had been stupid to get involved with him anyway. She had no time for such an affair at all. A jab went through her chest at the thought, but she decided it was better not to think about it further. At least not now. Now she had to grind flour, then go to the market, then bake bread, then clean the house... And she had to deal with it all before her brother came back with the few blocks of clay he could carry in his basket so she could start cooking. Perhaps it would always stay like this. Perhaps she would never get married. Perhaps Tiwa was right...

 _Perhaps you should stop whining and just press the stone harder!_

She grimly followed her own advice and scraped over the grains as hard as she could. Sweat dripped from her face and she wiped her forehead, groaning and glaring up to the roofing that did such a miserable job. Ra's hands stole past the sparsely laid palm fronds on the frame much too easily. She had to re-cover the canopy as soon as possible.

The squeaking of the court gate resounded a short time later and she whipped her head around. She couldn't calm her heart fast enough; it leapt at the idea of it being Huya who had come back. Scrambling to her feet, she rushed to the edge of the roof, only to see it was her brother who stood in the yard. Her shoulders drooped, but when she noticed how strangely he was carrying his basket she furrowed her brow.

"Why are you back already?" she called down to him. The blood in her veins ran cold when he raised his gaze and stared her dead serious in the eye.

"The pit is empty. There is no clay left."

Please, no! One couldn't have that much misfortune! Horrified, she lifted her dress from her feet and walked down the stairs. She came to stand before Ranheb, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me it's not true."

He shook his head, removed himself from her grip and lowered the basket, so that she could see inside. There were only four puny blocks of clay in it. She raked her fingers through her hair, pulling at the roots while looking at the clay.

"What do we do now?" Nefari asked, after just standing there for a while. Her brother shrugged his shoulders, put the basket away and dropped in the shadow of the house wall, exhausted. With his eyes closed, he leaned his head against the bricks. He was at his wit's end.

With a terrible pressure on her heart, she crouched down next to him, stretched out her legs and rested her head on his upper arm. Then silence enclosed the siblings. The girl let her gaze wander around the yard. Without the cart that had always stood beside the gate, it seemed far too large to her. The same was true for the donkey's shed. She sighed deeply and heard her brother follow suit.

Yes, what would they do now? The basis of their life had virtually crumbled underneath them. It was hard for her not to give in to the desperate thoughts that, like demons, crawled forth from the darkest corner of her mind, encircling her, ready to swallow her whole. After a long time, she felt Ranheb raising himself up a bit.

"Maybe... Maybe we can work in a temple pottery," he muttered, gazing down at her. The young woman lifted her head and pondered. It wasn't a bad idea in general. Temple potteries had their clay delivered; no one there had to worry about transport. And there was a fixed pay, regardless of the quantity of production.

"Do you really think that could work?" she inquired tentatively.

"Why not? We are pretty good after all. And we'll learn what we don't know." Enthusiasm bled into his voice the longer he thought about it. "I'll take a few jars to _Ipet-Sut_ so that someone can have a look at them." With one bound he was on his feet and stretched out his arms. "Everything will get better, Nefari, you'll see."

Joyful, he pushed the curtain in the door aside and disappeared into the house, where she heard him quietly muttering for a while. He had come across a good solution to their problems. Why was her stomach still feeling so queasy? Shaking her head, she climbed back onto the roof and darted towards the grinding stone when she saw a few birds feasting on the grain. Flailing her arms wildly, she drove away the squawking troublemakers.

Ranheb set off shortly afterwards with a basket of their most beautiful bowls, intent on making everything to the better. She, on the other hand, remembered one of the stories Tiwa had once entertained her with while washing clothes. About craftsmen in the workshop of a large estate outside the city who were not paid.

About foreman flogging the soles of their feet with sticks if they did not finish enough pieces. Could the same happen in the temple workshops? The thought made her terribly sick. It would be a change to work for someone other than themselves. Having to answer to someone else. Would Ranhebs stubborn head be able to obey?

Much more importantly, would her _own_ stubborn head be?

Lost in thought she began to sieve the grist. A small smile flashed over her features as she recalled Huya's contorted face when he'd first tried her bread. Frankly, it was hard for her to imagine that a family of boat builders could afford a higher-quality sieve, but who knew how they'd set their priorities? Although, when she thought of the expensive sandals the boy had sacrificed for her and Ranheb on New Year's Day, her intestines seemed to knot together…

A few hours had passed when she poured some of the flour into a small bag, took her basket out of the pantry, and headed to the market. She had almost reached the yard gate when someone behind it desperately called her name, hammering fiercely against the wood. Startled, she ran the last steps and pulled the door open.

It revealed Ineni's face, absolutely distraught. Her eye make-up ran down to her cheeks in black streaks where the tears had apparently been hastily wiped away. On her hip sat an equally crying Nikhem, who she tried to calm down with erratic rocking. Ramose stood behind her, clinging to her skirt, while Cheperankh detached herself from exactly there to sobbingly crash into Nefari's legs. Her little fingers feverishly clutched the straw doll she kept at her side at all times. Instinctively, the potter put a hand on the four-year-old's head.

"What happened?" she asked in alarm.

"Heru, he... There was an accident... In the ropeyard. They have- his arm... His arm was jammed. He's... I have to... Can- can you take the children?"

She sounded so frightened Nefari might reject her request, it stung the younger woman's heart. The potter felt herself nodding, a little surprised at first, then, as she processed the extent of what had been said, more emphatically.

"Of course!"

Immediately, she put her shopping basket on the floor and reached her free arm out to the youngest son, whom Ineni handed over to her. Not, however, without first taking her friend's hand and pressing it against her trembling lips.

"Thank you ..." she whispered, and new tears began to fall. "Thank you!"

"Mama," Ramose said in a chocked voice, and the older woman remembered his presence. She crouched in front of him and put her hands on his little shoulders.

"I have to go, _ibib._ Be good and watch out for your siblings. Can you do that for me?"

He wiped his eyes and nodded. His mother pressed a kiss to his forehead and got up.

"Such a sweet boy." She forced herself to smile and petted his shaved head. Then, she thanked Nefari again, promised to be back as soon as possible and ran down the street as fast as her legs could carry her. The potter looked after her anxiously, slightly bobbing up and down when Nikhem began to cry louder.

* * *

It took her a lot of time, patience and three small figures formed from one of the last clay blocks to calm the children down. And it was difficult for her, too, seeing she herself was horribly worried about Heru. How could she lead them to believe everything was fine after her mother suffered half a mental breakdown right before their eyes?

But eventually they became quieter and the girl dared to take them to the market with her. In hindsight, this wasn't her best idea, but she and Ranheb had to make ends meet themselves and if you didn't go shopping you had no food on the table at the end of the day.

"Hungry," complained Nikhem while they were inspecting the turnips at the vegetable stand. She shifted his weight on her hip and caressed his cheek with her finger.

"I'll cook something delicious once we get home," she comforted.

"Can we go to the temple?" Cheperankh asked again, tugging at Nefari's dress. The potter didn't know why, but the little girl had been asking for it all morning. Something about the concept fascinated her tremendously.

"Not today, _Tjuy_ ", she repeated for the ten thousandth time and ignored the following whining. Ramose was the calmest out of all three, dwelling on his own thoughts and only occasionally sharing them. It was understandable. He was the eldest, almost seven years of age now. He had a better understanding of the circumstances than his siblings.

"Will he get well again?" he suddenly asked, watching the young woman with sad eyes. Nefari's brows knitted together but she forced the corners of her mouth upwards.

"A lot of people do everything they can to help him," she assured and tightened her grip on his brother when he started fidgeting.

"Eat," he complained, pointing at a bunch of leeks.

"Later," she reminded.

"Now!"

"Can we go to the temple?"

Nefari sighed deeply.

"No, Cheperankh, we aren't going to the temple today."

"And if he doesn't get well?" Ramose interjected. When the young woman looked down on him, she saw fresh tears glistening in his eyes. She crouched down, as his mother had done.

"Your father is strong, isn't he?"

The little one nodded, a bit unsure.

"He can carry five coils of rope at once," he mused.

"See? He will use all his strength to recover."

The child stared at her in surprise and then let his gaze fall to the ground, his forehead in wrinkles. He looked like he was solving a complicated puzzle.

"That _is_ a lot of strength..." he agreed, immediately making a more relieved impression. She smiled and then just in time noticed Nikhem fishing around in the bowl of peapods he now had in front of his nose. Groaning, she pulled his hand out of the pods, at which he started wailing.

"At home."

"Hey, girl! Do you want vegetables or not? I have eight sons and when they come home, they are as hungry as twenty!" shouted an old woman. The potter turned around and found that a considerable line had formed behind her. No one standing there looked at her with particular kindness.

"I'm almost done," she called back irritated, and had her basket filled with a bit of everything. She didn't care what it was as long as she could just finish here. His crying intensifying, Nikhem began hitting her with his little fists and struggled to get out of her arms.

"Stop it, or you won't be getting anything at all!" she warned, catching his hands.

"Come on, hurry up!" someone from behind barked again, obviously referring to the basket the vegetable merchant held out to her with a pitying look. The girl was quite tempted to turn around and give these old hags a piece of her mind, but she held back. Instead, she took the basket, exposing herself to Nikhem's tantrum. A relief beyond words washed over her when Ramose stretched out his hands and divested her of the wickerwork.

"Why do people bring children into the world if they can't raise them properly?" another woman ranted when Nefari walked past her with her charges. The fine clothes, the ship's load of jewelry she was wearing, and the two slaves by her side disclosed that _she_ certainly hadn't brought up her children herself. "I already would have-"

"Show me," the girl chipped in furiously, turning around. The woman wrinkled her nose, apparently not very taken with the fact that she was addressed by the potter.

"What?"

"Show me the people who care."

Without waiting for an answer but rather satisfied with herself, she and the children left the stand behind. Nikhem eventually calmed down and put his head on her shoulder, where she could feel tears and mucus soak into her dress. She twisted her mouth. What a joy. Ramose almost burst with pride because he could carry the large basket all by himself, and Cheperankh had finally stopped asking about the templ-

Nefari came to an abrupt halt, eyes blown wide. She looked to her side, but found only the boy present.

"Where's your sister?"

He whipped around, his gaze also worried as he shook his head.

"She was right here."

"Cheperankh?"

Ridden by angst, the young woman scanned their surroundings, but didn't spot the girl with the straw doll. Her heart dropped. Where was the child? In her utter desperation, she stopped a few people and asked for the little one but to no avail. She grabbed her forehead. There were thousands of children littering _Waset's_ streets and Cheperankh did not differ from them at all. How was she supposed to find her?

Alright, now was no time to panic. Maybe she had gone home? A wave of nausea crashed over Nefari. Ineni's house was too far from here for her to find her way there with her four years alone. Perhaps it _was_ time to panic. Her roaming eyes got caught by a building at the end of the street which stood out from the surrounding area due to its dilapidated condition. Of course, how hadn't she thought of that before? She took a deep breath and faced Ramose.

"I think I know where she's gone. Come on."

She placed her free hand between the boy's shoulder blades so that she wouldn't lose him too and hurriedly navigated him through the hustle and bustle to the Temple of Isis. A huge mass of people romped about at the foot of the staircase that led up to the sanctuary. The potter had to raise herself on tiptoes to overlook the countless heads.

Amidst the crowd flashed a red and white _upet_ and she moved up to the guard who owned it, somewhat relieved. It was only relatively late that she realized it was the task of said guard to keep people away from the temple grounds, but since she had already made it this far, she still wanted to ask for Cheperankh.

"Excuse me!" she shouted through the many excited voices. "I'm sorry, _Neb!"_

The man's eyes, busily slipping over the people, briefly turned to her before he stared straight ahead again.

"Get along with you, there's nothing to see here."

"What? No, I'm looking for a little girl. Have you-"

She froze when he grabbed her shoulder to shove her away.

"I said _get lost!"_ he snarled, hand on the baton that was hanging at his belt.

" _Neb_ , please-"

"Nefari!" Ramose excitedly pulled at her dress. The potter bent her head and watched him come to his feet. He apparently had squatted down to see through the legs of those standing around. Now he pointed feverishly to the temple's stairhead. She craned her neck and almost fainted when she discovered what he meant. Behind the first Isis statue in the colonnade sat a child, arms wrapped around its legs, face buried at its knees, and a small doll in hand.

 _Oh, thank the gods!_

"Ramose", she pulled him out of the mob, lifted the sleepy Nikhem off her arm and gave him over to the boy. "Watch your brother. Don't move. I'll be right back."

He seemed to feel her tension, as he reached out for the little one and nodded perplexed. She lifted her hands from the dusty road and got up, eyebrows narrowed in determination. Inconspicuously, she let her gaze wander and noticed that there were fewer guards positioned on the other side of the stairs. Quickly walking around the throng, she slipped through the blockade close to the temple wall. Five whole steps she managed before she was spotted and had to turn tail and run.

"Halt! Halt right there!"

She sprinted up the weathered stairs, their varying heights almost breaking her feet. After she had made half the way, in addition to her sense of balance, she also had to struggle for breath.

"Stop! Now!" the angry voice rang out again. Upon hearing how close the guard was, Nefari forced herself forward even faster. Finally at the top, she dove behind the statue of the goddess, bashing open her knees in the process. Though, all that greeted her there was cold, colorless sandstone. She struggled back to her feet and looked around frantically. Where had the girl gone?

"Cheperankh?" she shouted desperately and began to move again. Over the heavy trampling of the leather sandals tracing her, she almost failed to hear the high-pitched laughter from inside the temple. Almost. Headless, she followed the sound and ran down the colonnade. After that, she rounded a corner and was about to yelp loudly at what she saw. The little troublemaker stood proudly in front of a group of men and held out her straw doll towards them.

"Cheperankh!"

Before she could even think of doing something else, she rushed forward and locked the child in her arms.

"Never, _ever_ , do something like that again, you hear?" she reprimanded, taking the girl's face into her hands to look at her sternly. Stunned, she stared back and then nodded. Nefari took another deep breath, pressed the girl even more firmly to her chest and finally let go to stand up with a sigh. She inclined her head to the man closest to her, who had watched her outburst without comment.

" _Neb_ , I'm so sorry. She ran away. I know I shouldn't have come here, but the guard at the entrance wouldn't-"

The young woman interrupted herself, completely taken by surprise. She knew the pale green eyes that were staring at her in horror. Just as well as she knew the dark brows that had furrowed so many times because auf her. The pronounced chin. And, perhaps best of all, the fuller upper than lower lip.

Huya.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, and only now came to take in his strange appearance. His blue tunic, with finely embroidered fish swimming around the hem, was held together by a belt with tightly lined beads in various shades of green. Around his neck hung a colorful _wesekh_ that ended in a golden falcon head on both sides of his chest. As she turned her eyes to his feet, she discovered leather sandals instead of her brother's shoes with the loose thong.

"What-?"

"Got you!" someone said right next to her ear and before she could turn around, fingers clawed into her hair, pushing her head down further. A large hand grabbed her forearm and twisted it so high up her back that it brought tears to her eyes. The guard that had caught her bowed to the men, forcing Nefari to do the same.

"My prince, please forgive the disruption. We will take care of her."

She couldn't possibly process what she heard. Her heart felt as if it was already deep in Ammit's maw and she needed all the strength she had to fight against the guard's grip and raise her head. Nothing was right. Her burning gaze struck Huya's and then that of the man standing beside him. She knew his face. It was the drunk whom they had encountered during the _Heriu-Renpet_ on the festival grounds. The one who had addressed Huya with this wrong name. His blurred voice echoed through her head.

 _'Ahkmen!'_

And then Nefari felt the sharp blade of realization pierce her stomach, and she could hardly hold back tears.

 _'Ahkmen' was not his wrong name at all..._


	13. The consistency of blood and water

**Hi guys, here's another chapter :)**

 **~References~**

 **-Sehen: Captain**

 **-Pylon: A monumental gateway of two tapering towers with a lower, enclosed entrance between them.**

 **-Men-Nefer: Ancient city of Memphis in Lower Egypt, approx. 12 miles south of Kairo.**

 **-Ser ketet: Little/weak prince**

 **-Tjehenu: A region in northern Libya. The exact location is uncertain now.**

* * *

"Release the girl," Ahkmenrah pressed forth after overcoming his initial shock. The captain of his escort had begun to drag Nefari away from him, and at that he felt a hot rage filling his gut like melted iron. The guard did not respond to his instructions and the young woman fought the rough treatment tooth and nail. The child, apparently her reason for coming here in the first place, stayed sobbing by her side.

" _Sehen_ _!_ " His resounding voice was thrown back from the crumbling walls, causing the man to look at him, startled. The rest of those present also turned their heads to him in silent surprise. "Release. The. Girl."

"My prince-"

" _Now!"_

Immediately, as if the mere touch burned him, he let go of her and lowered his head. Nefari, suddenly without support in this unnatural pose, collapsed to the ground and looked around tentatively. Then, she hastily got to her feet. With one hand she massaged the back of her head, the other she held out to the little girl, who clawed herself into the folds of the potter's dress. Her eyes, though, were fixated on Ahkmen and she did not even blink.

From one moment to the next, she tore her gaze away and forced it to the paved floor. The prince felt his stomach sink and he turned to the architects and builders, determined to save the last remnants of his appearance.

"I would like to talk to her alone," he told them, careful to keep his voice even. It was Bek who rose to speak first. Judging by the expression on his face, he had already figured out who she was.

"My prince, maybe that is not a good idea..."

"Just for a moment," Ahkmenrah assured, his eyes wandering back to Nefari on their own. His friend sighed and when the other men reluctantly withdrew to comply with the request, Bek squatted in front of Nefari's little companion, his arm casually resting on his knee.

"Have you ever been to the offering hall?" he asked the child in a markedly happy tone and smiled kindly at her. She peeked, interest aroused, past the woman's skirt and shook her head, shyly. Bek's smile widened.

"Then you are in for a surprise."

He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers, while she just stared at him. Her gaze scurried up to the potter, then back to Bek. Since the young woman did not object and the girl was obviously insanely curious, she sniffled, took his hand and let herself be led away. Bek threw his friend one last, worried glance and began quietly talking to the girl after they had turned a corner.

And, like that, Ahkmenrah and Nefari were alone. She didn't change her posture and continued to stare at the floor. He waited for her to speak. To yell at him. To start crying. Maybe even to slap his face. She did nothing of the sort; just kept her head lowered. Like _everyone always_ did. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, trying to create a counter-impulse to the throbbing pain that this image of her caused in his chest.

"Will you not say anything?" he asked, breathless. She compressed her lips and remained silent. As he eyed her, he spotted a few red stains on her dress, roughly at the height of her knees. "You are bleeding."

Silence. He rubbed his neck and took a deep breath, his chest tightening with every breath. The expensive collar did its bit from the outside.

"Nefari... I am sorry. I should not have… It should not have come to this…" The young man winced when he realized how wrong that sounded. As if he only regretted being caught. Her twisted mouth and knotted brows testified of this being exactly how she had conceived it. "That is not what I meant… I never wanted to... How should I have told you?"

Her shoulders tensed and she took a shaky breath. He didn't know how to react. Every fiber of his being wanted to go to her, but at the same time he was ashamed because he alone was to blame for her condition. So, he stayed where he was, simmering in remorse.

"Talk to me..."

She slowly raised her head, but instead of his face, her eyes turned to the side. When she spoke, her voice was dull, a weak echo of this otherwise razor-sharp weapon.

"Is that an order, _your_ _Highness_?"

Ahkmenrah had never witnessed even dull blades causing so much damage. It tore his body apart from the _inside_. He shook his head, consternation slowly growing. His throat was too tight to speak, and his jaw twitched as if he were a fish on dry land. He didn't know how long they stood there for, but when he heard Bek and the little girl return, he was sure that quite a while had passed.

"... and then Ramose fell into the geese enclosure."

"Did he catch the ball?" the advisor's son asked, peering around the corner inconspicuously to get an overview of the situation. The child at his hand nodded cheerfully, all previous fears forgotten.

"Nefari!" She hopped towards the potter, who broke out of her rigidity just in time to lift the child up. "Can we stay a little longer?" Nefari let her mouth slip into a thin smile and reminded her of her brothers waiting outside. Then she turned to Bek.

"Thank you for showing her the temple, _Neb_."

The soldier waved his hand dismissively and looked back and forth between her and the prince. Her eyes, however, shot behind him, from where the other men slowly approached again.

"And I thank you for helping me and _resolving the issue_ , your Highness... Please forgive us for stealing your valuable time."

The double meaning in her words leapt at Ahkmen like a feral dog, and he looked at her helplessly; tried one last time to make eye contact, but she stubbornly avoided his gaze.

"Nefari..." he whispered, but his committee lined up behind him, thus stealing any opportunity to say more. She bowed stiffly, turned around and left. The guard led them out, keeping his distance and Ahkmenrah, stunned, looked after her until she disappeared from sight.

"I'm afraid that did not have the desired outcome..." Bek muttered, thoughtfully.

* * *

With a force only rage could bestow, Nefari combed through her knotted hair, not even flinching when she ripped out entire strands. She was so stupid! She'd believed every one of his words!

Every single one!

Despite her mind trying to warn her. Time and again. It had hurled everything at her that hadn't made sense in his stories. And what had she done? She'd skillfully caught any objections and then carelessly thrown them into the abyss of naivety. Just because he had been nice to her. She snorted contemptuously. What irony. The prince, of all people, had _not_ treated her like the dregs of society.

What kind of sense did that make? Were the acrobats and dancers and actors in the palace no longer funny enough? Did he have to look for his exhilaration elsewhere now? Did Huy- she screwed her eyes shut - _Ahkmenrah_ – and his royal friends have a good laugh about her gullibility? Had they made bets on how long he could keep up the charade?

The mere notion evoked her tears, but she furiously clenched her jaws together. He didn't deserve her crying for him! When she did feel the moisture on her cheeks after all, she tried to convince herself that it was stemming from her aggressive grooming.

Of course, that didn't work. She was no child. Cheperankh had been innocent enough to believe she had cried outside the temple because she had scraped her knees, but she could not deceive herself. It had not been easy to keep under control in front of the children throughout the afternoon. As much as she loved the three, she was relieved when Ineni came to pick them up so she could be alone. At least her friend had brought positive news from her husband's sickbed: they had managed to save his arm. It was nice to see that the misfortune didn't stick to all of them. Frustrated, she shook her head.

Between all the disappointment and the profound sense of betrayal, there was this quiet voice inside her that still defended him. That sheltered him from blame. It reminded her that the last few weeks had been tough, and he had stayed anyway. He could have made sure she got into trouble for their first disastrous encounter. She would have been in for a world of hurt and that was only if she had gotten out of it alive. No. Instead, he had helped her. And with the only item he probably didn't possess in abundance at that. With his spare time.

Even during the holidays, he had stood by her. He had sacrificed his sleep. Heavens, he had even risked his own life to save hers from the hippopotamus. Why had he done that? She couldn't comprehend it, what had been in it for him? Was it an exciting diversion for him to act the poor boy? Was the everyday life in the palace so boring that he even put up with _this_ existence? She shook her head again and allowed herself a dry sob. Whatever it was, it didn't make any difference. She wouldn't see him again.

Full of bitterness, she took her nightgown out of the chest and let the lid slam down harder than was good for the old wood. Her gaze got caught by the adjoining room and she froze, thunderstruck.

Ranheb!

She hadn't seen him since the morning! The sun had long set, and he hadn't returned home. In the fuss surrounding Ineni's family and in her own crisis, she hadn't even noticed! Stumbling to her feet, she dropped the crumpled fabric and ran for the steps. Her loose hair fell into her face and she hurriedly tucked it back to rush downstairs, only to be received by darkness. A quiet hope urged her to peek into the workshop. Maybe her brother was back, and she just hadn't noticed him? But it was as she had feared, the room was empty.

Without wasting more time, she pushed the curtain in the door aside and ran into Khonsu's silvery light. The yard lay abandoned, the kiln bare of any flame. The girl continued to the street. Only when the gate fell closed behind her did she realize that she had no idea where to look for Ranheb. _Waset_ was huge, he could be practically everywhere. A terrible pressure began to build in her head, forcing her to close her eyes and take a deep breath. Alright, where could he be? His plan had been to go to _Ipet-Sut_... It would be best to start there and then ask her way around. She had to admit this late hour was a very bad time for such a plan, but knowing her brother, it could be too late in the morning. This was the second time today she traced the trail of a vanished back to a temple... That had to stop!

The night was starry and mild, and a balmy wind blew grains of sand around her feet. Nefari hardly encountered anyone, most had long returned home after the day's work was done, as the illuminated windows revealed. Across the street, some man knocked on a door, waiting to be let in. It opened and two children came rushing out. He raised them both up, then a woman appeared in the door frame and gave him a kiss. He smiled at her and followed her into the house. Nefari lingered briefly in the street, a lump in her throat as she watched him close the door. Eventually, she began to move again. She had to find Ranheb!

At the pace she set, an unpleasant tension soon spread in her legs, but the concern for her brother pushed her onward. In the distance, she could already see the white limestone of the temple complex contrasting against the dark sky. Her gaze wandered over the huge pylons of the Temple of Amun that rose above the outer wall, and then gravitated towards the colossal structure next to it. Immediately, her face fell back into the gloomy grimace she had worn throughout the afternoon.

So, this was where he really lived. _Pretty far from the shipyard_ , she thought bitterly, trying to drive the image of him in his fine clothes from her head. She did not succeed, instead her heart felt it necessary to obtrude a number of other visions upon her. Ahkmenrah at a table, full to overflowing, only taking one bite from every meal and then throwing it away. Ahkmenrah, surrounded by servants who worshipped the ground he was walking on and bended over backwards to pander to his whims. Ahkmenrah, a pretty girl on each arm, biting his lip with a grin and…

 _Don't do this to yourself, Nefari! Whatever there may have been between you, it's over and it won't come back. Now go, find your brother._

She held her head. That was easier said than done...

Enthusiastic calls not too far away removed her mind from the dark, haunting thoughts. Skeptically, she looked over her right shoulder. Who made so much noise in the middle of the night? There were several voices howling across each other. The young woman had the constricting feeling that she would find Ranheb if she headed for the commotion. With the deep hope of being mistaken, she threw one last glance at the temples before returning to the main street and letting her ears guide her through the alleyways.

A few rats scurried past her feet and she dodged them in horror, only to stumble, break her fall against a house wall, and then run on. Indeed, it didn't take long for her to locate the source of the nightly racket: it was a beer house.

Or, more precisely, the people standing out front in a circle, clapping and loudly uttering their encouragement. In the darkness, Nefari needed a moment to figure out what she was watching. In their midst, two figures scrambled across the floor. One eventually gained the upper hand, rose above the other and hit him in the face until a disgusting crack could be heard. The girl's blood run cold.

She had found her brother.

It was only a faint consolation that he was currently the one who was dealing out the blows. Her first shock only briefly immobilized her, though. Had everyone lost their mind now? Unable to watch Ranheb knocking the other man unconscious and with vigorous rage in her stomach, she sprinted the last steps. She made shameless use of her pointed, bony elbows and squeezed through the group of clearly drunken guests.

"Ranheb! Stop it!" she shouted over the cheering as she came to a halt in the middle of the ring. Her brother, however, was so busy deforming his opponent's face that he didn't react at all.

"Ranheb!" Her voice broke and her unbridled anger turned into a rising panic when she looked closer at the swollen, bloody something beneath her brother. She darted to grab him by the shoulder. "Stop!"

The next thing she felt was a violent blow to her head that caused her to tumble back. An ineffable pain exploded in her temple. Perplexed, she stared down at the ones fighting. Ranheb stared back from foggy eyes just as startled when he recognized her, sobering up at once. A wave of silence swept over the bystanders before the volume rose again. She ground her teeth, ignored the onlookers' calls for retaliation and relentlessly tore her brother back on the shoulder.

"We're going home!"

He evaded her hand, but at least let go of his victim, who, groaning, rolled onto his back. With trembling legs, Ranheb rose and Nefari began to support him. She didn't know how much beer he'd had, but she didn't want to risk him falling over and hitting his head. The extra mass weighed heavily on her and it became even harder to keep him upright when he started pushing her away.

"Leave me alone!"

"You're not right in the head!" she hissed, dragging him into the alley from which she had come. Those left behind complained loudly about the loss of their fighter, while the girl hoped that the loser of this brawl didn't suffer lasting damage.

"Leave me!"

"This is unbelievable! For heaven's sake, why do you fight strangers in the middle of the night? Why do you fight at all? I thought we were through with this! Better start praying that man back there doesn't go to court. We can't afford any compensation! And what could have happened to you! Damn it-"

"Stop." He squinted his eyes, irritated. "You're not my mother."

This fanned the fire in her stomach so much that her anger boiled over, threatening to burn them both.

"Well, maybe you should stop acting like a spoiled child if something doesn't go the way you want, then!"

"They didn't-" he began, but she had talked herself in such a rage, she didn't let him speak.

"I can't do this all on my own anymore, you have to start taking responsibility. You have to help me, Ranheb!"

"They didn't want our pottery!" he snapped. Surprised, she looked at him. There was the rub. His eyes suddenly displayed a desperation that darkness and alcohol had been hidden well until then. Her anger-soaked words got stuck in her throat.

"You mean they-"

"They said I shouldn't drag this _filth_ into the temple and stop wasting their time."

The hurtful tone in which he recited the words squeezed Nefari's heart with a cold hand. She bit her lip and loosened her firm grip a little.

"We'll think of something else."

"No, you don't understand! There is no future for us here!" he barked, shoving her off so violently that she let him go. The young man sluggishly caught himself on a wall and slipped down on it. With his legs outstretched he came to sit, looking a picture of misery.

"And? What are we supposed to do now?" she asked sourly, her arms crossed in front of her chest. He had always been extraordinarily good at complaining about problems without looking for solutions.

"... Leave this damn city and go to _Men-Nefer_ ," he muttered, gaze turned to the stars above him. Her eyes narrowed in irritation. This was a joke. This could only be a joke. But Ranheb didn't laugh. Quite the contrary, the muscles around his mouth were firm, as if carved in stone. Exhausted, her torso slumped a bit forward. He was dead serious.

"We can't leave here."

"Why not?"

"...The house."

"Rat hole," he snorted humorlessly, causing her to lower her eyes. Objectively, he had a point there. Elsewhere, they might be more fortunate... Build a real life. One in which they did not have to live from hand to mouth... Her brows knitted together. What nonsense! If they left _Waset_ , they'd be left with nothing! No matter how hard life might seem now, it would be ten times harder.

"Father's death is my fault, Nefari, and now-"

"That's not true. It was an accident. You have to stop beating yourself up over things we can't change," she protested. He had been singing this same old song for too long.

"But I'm responsible for you and I don't want to ruin your life as well."

"I can make my own decisions."

"Not this one. We've lost the donkey, we've lost the clay pit, and we have no more supplies. We have to go."

"You're drunk. Now is not a good time to-"

"I still know what I'm saying!" he exclaimed indignantly, and all of a sudden, his head turned dark red. She gritted her teeth in anger. Slowly but surely, her patience was coming to an end.

"Ranheb, that's a really stupid idea. Now come on, I don't want to discuss this here." She squared her shoulders and held a hand to him, which he looked at, but did not touch.

"Your opinion isn't the measure of all things, even if you think you are wiser than everyone else. _I_ am the head of this family and the final decision is up to _me!"_

At that moment, he actually sounded as sober as he claimed to be. Nefari blinked, a gigantic lump formed in her throat and her eyes began to burn. She didn't know why exactly, but she suddenly felt miserable.

"Have fun in _Men-Nefer,_ then," she squeezed out and turned around. "I'm not coming with you."

* * *

Ahkmenrah hit the ground, blinking paralyzed into the rising sun. The iron taste in his mouth told the story of blood. Bek's silhouette manifested in the golden rays above him, and he slammed the sword he had just wrested from him into the sand.

"Focus!" his friend scolded over the training noises of the other soldiers. "You would wear your guts as a belt if this was a real fight!"

Despite his apparent displeasure, he stretched out a hand to the prince. Ahkmen swallowed the pain in his back and the frustration of being beaten and took it. He was pulled to his feet with a strong jolt. Grimly removing his weapon from the ground of the training area, he took a couple of steps back to take his root position. Bek carefully watched him for a moment and then lunged out, quick as an arrow. The King's son yanked up his blade just in time to block the blow, but almost pushed it into his own flesh doing that.

"This is not working! You are not concentrating at all! What is going on with you?"

"Nothing," he answered grimly, shaking his aching arm. "Try again!"

Instead of attacking, his opponent sternly scrutinized him. Eventually, the dust of the fight crumbled from the deep wrinkles of suspicion on his face and he threw his head back.

"It is because of that girl."

Ahkmenrah regarded the ground in silence, seeing no point in contradicting the presumption. Bek shook his head, sighed and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. The leather straps that protected his forearms emitted a tangy odor.

"Listen: I know this is not easy for you, but this whole affair was doomed to fail from the start. You should forget her."

The prince wiped the sweat from his face and snorted.

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then stop wallowing in self-pity."

It bothered him more than he could say that the girl got under his skin so much. How could this issue unhinge him to such an extent? His stomach had been aching with anger the whole morning.

 _Maybe that is because you know you messed up?_

"Ahkmen," Bek interrupted the spiteful voice in his head. "The fact that you two did not talk in the temple is not your fault. It is _hers_. Apart from that, you do not need her. You are the prince; you can have every other girl. Why do you not look for a better match?"

Ahkmenrah sluggishly raised his eyes. He understood Bek's line of thinking, he really did. It just didn't help his situation in the least. Even if he did find a 'better match', it would be a house built on sand. All he knew about his marriage was that it would be a political move. His parents would choose a wife for him. Why should he focus on finding someone he liked, only to then have to marry someone else? More complicated feelings were the last thing he needed... Granted, he was able to have more than one wife in theory, but was that really something he wanted? He sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I cannot just-"

The neighing of horses and a painful cry disrupted his sentence. The two men lowered their weapons and whipped around. A driverless chariot sped by, slowed down eventually and finally came to a complete halt. In the thick dust cloud that billowed behind it, Ahkmen spotted its driver lying on the ground. At first the prince froze in shock, but the figure began to stir and moan.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Panehesy's sharp voice cut across the square. The general made his way through the mass of the fighting men, his stomping sounded ominous even on the soft ground. "Get up!"

The dust had cleared to the point where Ahkmenrah could recognize the victim and his stomach sunk a little lower. It was Semat's brother, Nedjenhor, who lay there on his back like a beetle. His face screwed up, he looked around until he discovered his walking cane in the sand. He turned over and crawled towards it. Just as he was about to take it, Panehesy's foot crashed down on the aid.

Hor stared up to the commander appalled, then jutted out his chin, slammed his hands into the ground and sat up. He tried to stand completely, but his clubfoot did not cooperate, no matter how hard he tried. His other leg began to tremble. Had he injured it during the fall?

"Get up!" the older man barked again, and the anger exploded in Ahkmenrah's belly. Bek seemed to feel this, as he looked at his friend and shook his head in warning, but the words had already left the prince's mouth.

"He would excel in doing so if you took a step back, General!"

In his peripheral view, he noticed Bek squinting his eyes and raising a fist to his mouth. Panehesy's head, meanwhile, turned to the King's son, the resolute gaze shot a shiver down the young man's spine. He was a mountain of a man, both in height and width, and when he stared you down, you felt much smaller than you were anyway. In his rough, angular face sat a pair of narrow eyes that caught even the tiniest detail. His head and beard hair was of such a dark black that it, although completely shaved, always cast a shadow. He was as fearsome a fighter as an outstanding war strategist.

"Maybe your words would mean something if you didn't let yourself get beaten constantly!" he shouted over, abandoned Hor and approached Ahkmenrah with huge steps. A few other soldiers turned to the spectacle at his volume. "Just because you're a prince doesn't mean you don't bleed to death as quickly as anyone else."

"I did not expect the opposite," Ahkmen angrily replied, capturing a side glance of Bek that told him what an honor it was for his friend to have known him. He stared the giant in the eye without flinching, but he could not deny that there was a certain truth to his words. Admittedly, he had never been an exceptional talent in hand to hand combat, but what he displayed this morning was a tragedy. His shoulders sank.

"Get a grip, I don't need weaklings in my troops!", the commander snapped, and then faced Semat's brother. "That applies to you too!" Then he left, no doubt in search of his next victim. Ahkmenrah released a puff of breath and looked at Hor again, who had since gotten up and limped away.

"Let him be," Bek admonished, lifting the sword in front of his nose, and then nodding in the direction in which the general had disappeared, "Do not anger him further."

The prince turned to his sparring partner, also readying his weapon. Panehesy's _encouraging words_ didn't change his attitude towards combat, but they stoked his anger enough to make him more careless and quicker. While this tactic was hardly recommendable in a real battle, it worked with Bek. He was of sturdier physique than the prince, but that also made him a little slower. That is why he had growing difficulties repelling the rapid blows.

In the course of the morning, Ahkmen was able to claim one or two victories for himself, though he still ended up in the sand more often than he would have liked. When the training session was finally declared finished, he picked himself up and dislodged the dust from his hair, from where it trickled down the back of his neck.

"You see? It worked quite well after all," Bek remarked, receiving only a dissatisfied grunt from his friend, which made him smile. "Next time, you might even manage to beat me without me letting you win."

The two handed their weapons to a soldier and left the area, eager to finally escape the blazing sun after those exhausting hours. The bath Ahkmenrah had had this morning seemed so long ago now.

"You did not let me win," he said, arching a brow. Bek's mouth stretched into his typical grin, revealing two rows of straight teeth.

"Keep telling yourself that, _ser ketet."_

"Bek, if you had actually let me win, you would not rub it in my face."

They climbed the steps to the awning covered colonnade and were relieved to be absorbed by the shade. From up here you had an excellent view of the training ground, as Ahkmen had found out as a child. Back when he'd been too small to fight, he had loved nothing more than to watch his brother down there, looking forward to the moment when he himself would hold a sword. The King's son shook his head at this infantile enthusiasm. He remembered how terribly his nursemaids had rebuked him for sitting on the balustrade and dangling his legs.

A sound pulled him from the past and he removed his gaze from the finely decorated masonry over which his hand hovered. Bek's attention also focused on the large passage to their left, which, flanked by two Horus statues, led to the inner palace. Naked feet thudded over the smooth stone and it sounded as if their owner was stumbling once or twice. The prince suspiciously narrowed his eyes.

After an endless moment, it was Tani who finally stumbled out. She hastily peered behind her while running right towards the young men, not even noticing them. It wasn't until she almost collided with Ahkmen that she detected them. Startled, she came to a stop and looked at the two, before she came to her senses and lowered her head. Her shoulder-long hair fell forward and covered her face like a curtain.

"Is everything alright?" Ahkmenrah asked, exchanging a wary look with his friend. The girl tried to suppress her frantic breathing, but he could literally feel it tearing her apart.

"Yes, your Highness."

That did not convince him at all.

"Why did you run so fast?"

"... I forgot the time, your Highness, forgive me," she stated. He noticed her squeezing her hand into her side in a small, certainly subconscious gesture, and his eyes widened a little. She had a stitch. So, she'd been moving at that speed for a while. Why?

"If there is anything that worries you, Tani, you can tell me." He looked at where he suspected her eyes behind all the hair, but she only tilted her face further downward.

"Of course, your Highness."

The revelation he had hoped for failed to appear; the servant just restlessly stretched her toes over the smooth, white floor. Had he read too much into her haste?

"Is there anything else I can do for you, your Highness?" she questioned tentatively. He shook his head, which she probably didn't see anyway. In fact, he was afraid that if she continued like this, she would break her neck.

"No, you may go."

"Your Highness." She straightened up and scurried past them. The two looked after her until she was obscured by the staircase.

"Well, _that_ was strange." Bek scratched his temple with his index finger, gaze still clinging to the steps, while Ahkmenrah turned around and immediately knew what had shaken the girl. Through the huge door stepped Kahmunrah, his arms crossed behind his back, and a scowling guard on either side.

" _Seni_ ," he said as he approached, not particularly kindly, but considering he'd had loathed him for 18 years, it sounded downright exuberant in Ahkmen's ears.

"Kahmunrah."

The crown prince looked at the adviser's son and assumed the same expression one would get if they noticed a crushed insect was sticking to their shoe.

"Bek."

"My prince," he replied, lowering his head in the faint imitation of a real bow.

"As soon as I get decision-making power over the troops, you will be transferred to _Tjehenu_ ," Kah told him as he looked at his fingers.

"I-"

"You go ahead," the younger prince interrupted, pushing the soldier aside before his brother decided to run a _khopesh_ through his heart. "I will be right there."

His companion looked at him indecisively and finally nodded in reluctance before bowing and disappearing. Kahmunrah looked after him with visible aversion.

"Honestly, I never understood why you bother with this bug. He is so... _agitating_."

"Is there anything I can help you with or have you just come to insult my friends?" Ahkmenrah inquired, already fed up with the conversation.

"Do I always have to have ulterior motives? Can I not just talk to you?"

The younger man raised an eyebrow; his brother then released a theatrical sigh.

"Fine. I want to congratulate you on your progress on the Temple of Isis."

Ahkmen skeptically crossed his arms in front of his chest. This would be the first time his brother wished him good. He didn't trust it, there was something fishy going on. His opposite did not miss this attitude.

"No, truly. Your work is excellent, Father said it himself... Though, I can imagine that you have to bear a heavy burden with the project," he continued, waving his guards aside. They silently withdrew as he took a step toward the younger prince.

"I can manage."

"Can you? I want to tell you the truth, you look worn out," he observed, his feigned kindness already melting. "Allow me to make a suggestion-"

"No, thank you."

Grimly sliding past his brother before he could continue, he headed for the entrance. He shouldn't have gotten involved with him in the first place. Kah did nothing out of the goodness of his heart, everything had a catch with him. It was quiet for a moment, but the boy didn't even make it to the first Horus statue before Kahmunrah's voice resounded again.

"A fine piece of craftsmanship."

His mind begged him to just keep moving, but, of course, he didn't listen. Annoyed, he turned back and stiffened. The crown prince had pulled out a bowl and looked at it thoroughly. It seemed terribly familiar... A cold shiver ran down Ahkmenrah's spine when he remembered why. Nefari had manufactured it, back on the roof, during a nightly talk about stones and donkey troughs. How had his brother gotten hold of it?

"What... what about it?" He tried not to let on how rapidly his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

"Why don't you tell me? After all, I heard that you have become quite an expert in the last few weeks."

He knew it, he knew everything! Ahkmenrah could feel it in every fiber of his being. He clenched his hands into fists. There was no point in playing the fool, that would only anger him.

"Kah-"

"Not the prettiest I have ever seen but unique, don't you think? Just imagine how sad it would be if it broke. There would be no second one like it," he muttered, ignoring the other man's protests. Instead, he turned the small dotted vessel between his fingers, displaying a hypocritical interest unparalleled. Ahkmen closed his eyes to gather himself. When he reopened them, there was an expression he knew too well stamped in his brother's face.

"What is it you really want?"

"Oh, _brother_. This is not about me. I am just concerned for your wellbeing. But while we are at it, I feel like the stress of the temple restoration has become too much for you lately. Do you not think it better to convince father to transfer the responsibility to me? Then you could fully devote yourself to your favorite _pastimes_."

"He will never agree... Kah, she... she has nothing to do with this. Please-"

A loud clatter interrupted his words. Terrified, he gazed at the colorful shards of clay that were now scattered at his brother's feet.

"Oh no, look at that." He put an insincere hand on his cheek. "How clumsy of me."

Ahkmen's defense shattered like the bowl had done and he held out his arm as if he could prevent the storm of terrible scenarios that immediately rose in his head.

"Alright! I will talk to father! Just, please, keep her out of this!"

A satisfied smile spread over Kah's mouth, but the treachery was still lurking behind his eyes, a crocodile in shallow water.

"You better hurry. We do not want to expose you to this pressure any longer than necessary. Besides, I always get so _restless_ when I cannot help."

Without wasting another word, the younger prince turned on his heel and ran through the door. It was repugnant to him that his brother could now watch with satisfaction as he carried out his orders, but Nefari's safety was definitely more important than his retained pride. His long steps carried him straight to the throne room.

He had to do something, and he had to do it now!

* * *

Restful sleep was something Nefari hoped for in vain that night. Her mind had become a maelstrom of churned up thoughts. The desperate situation alone rankled with her, added to this was the Ahkmenrah chaos, but Ranheb's decision took away her last bit of peace. Half the night she racked her brain over his decision, the other half she was plagued by confusing, shapeless dreams.

Sure, he had been drunk and completely rattled, but he had understood the consequences of his words, that she was fully convinced of. Over and over she wondered if he was right. Should they leave the city? Was her will to stay a bar to their happiness?

 _She didn't know!_

How could they abandon the only home they had ever known, only to chase after some fantasy of his? How could they throw everything away without ever trying anything other than pottery? Besides, _Waset_ was the capital of the empire. If they couldn't find work here, then where? She screwed her eyes shut, pushed her arm under her head and burrowed her face in its crook. A pitiful sob fought its way from her throat.

Next door, the wooden lid of a clothes chest clapped shut. Her brother was already up and about, then. The girl curled up even further. She did not want to talk to him, not after the fight yesterday. He could be heard traversing the other room for a while, handling objects before quietly stepping through the door. His sister lay with her back to him, so she could only assume he remained motionless in the doorframe for a long time. Ranheb's gaze rested upon her, no doubt he was trying to figure out if she was just pretending to be asleep. The young woman forced herself to breathe calmly and evenly.

Eventually, he sighed softly and approached her to kneel down. The rustling of stiff linen indicated that he raised his arm. Again, he lingered in this position, then Nefari felt his feather-light touch on her hair.

"Come with me, _shasha_ ," he whispered, barely audible. She couldn't decide if he was talking to her because he knew she was awake, or more with himself, but she realized he had made up his mind. He would leave. He would really, truly leave. And he wouldn't force her to come along. The little sister in her wanted to jump up and cling to him, but the rational-thinking woman remained motionless. She couldn't... If she moved, she either had to leave the city or let go of her brother and she lacked the strength to do both.

His breath hitched and after a far too short moment, he got back to his feet. The warm hand on her head disappeared and he last thing she heard from him was his shuffling steps on the trodden staircase.

Then he was gone.


	14. Glossary

**Glossary**

(in alphabetical order of Egyptian words)

*literal translations, (probably) without detectable background information.

 _ **Akhet:**_ Season of inundation (July to October)

 _ **Ammit:**_ Demoness and goddess with a body that is part lion, hippopotamus, and crocodile. She lives near the scales of justice in the underworld and devours the sinner's hearts.

 _ **Ankh-udja-seneb*:**_ 'Life, prosperity, health' or 'May he live, be prosperous, and healthy'. A phrase used when referring to the Pharaoh.

 _ **Apep:**_ Embodiment of chaos. Depicted as a giant serpent or tortoise. He lurks at the entrance to the underworld and attacks Ra's barque when it comes by.

 _ **Chery-nus*:**_ Ragalia carrier (i. e. the guy who's lugging around the Pharaoh's fancy stuff).

 _ **Deben:**_ In this time period, money hadn't been invented yet, so they bartered for their things. Thus, deben was not their currency, but rather a unified weight that functioned as value comparison. During the New Kingdom was a little more than 3 ounces.

 _ **Duat:**_ Underworld

 _ **Geb:**_ Earth god

 _ **Hapi:**_ Both the god of and the term for the Nile's flood.

 _ **Heb-Peret-Sopdet:**_ Festival of Sopdet. It was celebrated on New Year's Day, (subsequent to the Heriu-Renpet) when Sopdet (the star Sirius) rose on the horizon. The river's inundation followed immediately after.

 _ **Hemu*:**_ Servant

 _ **Heriu-Renpet:**_ Five additional days the Egyptians added to their calendar, so their year would obtain a length of 365 days. During these holidays, they celebrated the births of Osiris, Horus, Seth, Isis, and Nephthys.

 _ **Huy*:**_ Fan

 _ **Ibib*:**_ Sweetheart, darling

 _ **Ihes*:**_ Bastard

 _ **Inhu tjemes*:**_ Dirty rat. But fun fact: Egyptians put their nouns before their adjectives, so it's actually 'rat dirty'.

 _ **Ipet-Sut:**_ Karnak temple complex in Luxor. Expanded over the millennia, it was dedicated to several gods, e. g. Amun, Khonsu, Ptah, Montu, and Mut. It has remained the biggest temple complex in Egypt to this day.

 _ **Kemet:**_ Egypt. The literal translation is 'black land', referring to the fertile black soils of the Nile's flood plains.

 _ **Khonsu:**_ God of the moon and of course the one Akhmenrah's tablet draws its power from. He, along with his mother, Mut, and his father, Amun, formed the 'Theban Triad'. Khonsu is often depicted as mummy with the disk and the crescent of the moon on his head.

 _ **Khopesh**_ (also vocalized 'khepesh'): Traditional sickle-sword

 _ **Maat:**_ Goddess, as well as concept of justice, cosmic order, and truth.

 _ **Medjay:**_ Initially the 'desert police' consisting of Nubian mercenaries, but in time the term became prevalent for any kind of lawman.

 _ **Men-Nefer:** _Ancient city of Memphis in Lower Egypt, approx. 12 miles south of Kairo.

 _ **Mesen:**_ Present-day Edfu, approx. 100 miles south of Thebes.

 _ **Mesut-Aset-Heb:**_ Birthday of Isis, celebrated on the fourth day of the Heriu-Renpet.

 _ **Neb*:**_ Lord, master

 _ **Nebet-Tawi*:**_ Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt

 ** _Pylon:_** A monumental gateway of two tapering towers with a lower, enclosed entrance between them.

 _ **Rekhy*:**_ Friend

 ** _Sehen*:_** Captain

 _ **Seket*:**_ Guard

 _ **Senet:**_ A board game, quite similar to Parcheesi, Ludo or Mensch-ärgere-dich-nicht.

 _ **Seni*:**_ My brother

 _ **Ser ketet*:** _Little/weak prince

 _ **Seth and Osiris:**_ Ahk was touching on the Osiris myth here. In one extremely shredded (heh, pun intended), summarized version, it goes as follows: Osiris was the king, but his brother, Seth, wanted the throne. So, Seth used a trick to lure Osiris into a wooden box, locked him in there and threw the whole thing into the Nile. Isis went looking for her husband and eventually found him waaaay downriver in Byblos (in what is now Lebanon). Seth learned of this, went there, stole the coffin to chop Osiris' body into 14 pieces, and then distribute them across the country. Isis actually managed to find all but one (which was swallowed by a fish and she had to recreate it. Unfortunately, that was exactly the part she needed to make little Horus. Well, it worked anyway) and Anubis helped her to put the pieces back together by wrapping them in bandages. And thus, the first mummy was created. Ta-da.

 _ **Shasha*:**_ Fool, stupid

 _ **Shemu:**_ Season of harvest (March to June).

 _ **Shendyt:**_ Kilt-like garment

 _ **Sistrum:**_ Musical instrument, played somewhat like a rattle.

 _ **Sunu:**_ Present-day Aswan, approx. 130 miles south of Thebes.

 _ **Ta-seti:**_ Nubia. A region in central Sudan. Ta-seti literally means 'Land of the bow'.

 _ **Taweret:**_ Patron goddess of pregnant women and mothers. She is depicted as a hippo with a crocodile-like head, crocodile tail, and lion arms and legs.

 _ **Thoth:**_ Another moon god. Also god of magic, science, scribes, and wisdom (and honestly a lot more stuff). Among other things, he was depicted as man with ibis head or as baboon.

 _ **Tjuy*:**_ A female term of endearment.

 _ **Tjehenu*:**_ A region in northern Libya. The exact location is uncertain now.

 _ **Upet*:**_ Headdress

 _ **Waset:**_ Ancient city of Thebes; present-day Luxor.

 _ **Wesekh:**_ Collar consisting of several threads of beads.


End file.
